The Insane Mind of One Firediva0
by Firediva0
Summary: This is a book of drabbles. If you want to read them, please go from chapter 84 and above. 1-83 are riddled with errors that need to be corrected. Here's my golden rule: The more recent it is, the better.
1. Drabble 1: CharlieHarry

Title: The Insane Mind of Firediva0

Rating: Varies from T to M.

Summary: This is a book of Drabbles of anything and everything in the HP fandom. Here you'll be enraptured by emotions so pure and so ugly that it will leave a lasting impression on your heart. I don't expect you to read all of them, nor do I want you to. Browse through them and find ones that call to your soul. The pairings will sometimes be so outrageous that you may just weep for my sanity, and other times they will be familiar and bring a smile upon your face.

This collection is _not_ for the faint of heart. Now...are you ready to see what lurks in Firediva0's mind?

Disclaimer: I don't own the HP series, and should you lose your mind don't say I didn't warn you. If i'm sued for any mental damage done to your person, know that you will lose viciously and cruelly because it's _not_ my problem. This is my last warning. Turn back _now_ if you can't handle both the cruel and happy parts of life.

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Drabble #1: Harry/Charlie

Emotions: Angst and Affection.

 _ **~Harry POV~**_

Sometimes the pain is so intense that it overwhelms me. It feels like a thousand needles to my heart and no matter how much I feel like screaming to let someone- _anyone_ know of my pain, I don't.

I know I should, and I know that my friends are worried for me, but I just _can't_. It's my fault that Sirius is dead, and my fault that my parents are as well. This pain is nothing compared to the pain they no doubt went through when they lost their lives, so I have no right to complain.

If anything the pain should triple, and I should be on the floor taking it like the worthless piece of shit I am. I don't deserve to be rid of the pain nor do I deserve to have anyone care, but they do and it drives me insane.

Sometimes when the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is dark and everyone's asleep, I let the tears fall. They aren't tears of physical pain, but instead ones of emotional pain.

I loathe that I do it because I know that I _shouldn't_ be. Freaks like me deserve nothing but pain, and it is on that account that Uncle Vernon was right.

I am a freak, and it's about time that I accept it.

I bring pain and death to all those around me, and sometimes I wish I could kill myself. Not only to take away the pain, but also to relieve the burden from all of those who _care_. Sometimes, I wonder why people care about me. After all, i'm nothing but vermin and should just _die_ yet whenever I even entertain the idea of killing myself, I picture all of those who care.

Ron, Hermione, Luna, Draco, Neville, Fred, George, Dumbledore, the Weasley's, and most of all _Charlie._

I couldn't do that to any of them much less Charlie. He is my rock, and keeps me as emotionally stable that someone as broken as me can get.

He cares for me, and puts up with my crap. Everytime I have a breakdown and scream and yell at everyone, Charlie would just hold me and take all of the punches that I would land on his chest.

He would be the one to gently wipe away my tears and rock me all the while whispering sweet nothings into my ears until I calmed down.

When I would exhaust myself trying to figure out how the hell I would kill Voldemort, Charlie would whisk me towards Ron and my room and stay with me to ensure that I wasn't going to be a prat and just get right back up.

When I think about ending my life, his blue eyes would appear in my minds eye, and i'd just be even more disgusted with myself.

How could I even think about something that would put Charlie in so much pain? This isn't just my life anymore. I belong to him whether he knows it or not.

My heart, mind, and soul aren't my own. It's his to command and if I have to live with this pain for the rest of my life, then so be it.

I'll be his protector even if that means I have to protect him from myself.

I love you, Charlie Weasley and I won't ever let you get hurt because of me.

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AN: This isn't my best, nor is this my worst. However, i'm getting back into the swing of writing more and more so it's gonna take a couple tries to completely get into it.

I'm sure you have noticed this is rather short, but that's because i'd like to expand on it later. Whether by a short Multi-chap of about 10 chapters or a long one of over 45 chapters is up to you guys. Don't be afraid to ever tell me when you like a drabble a lot and want to see more of it. I'd happily do some more if you think it's a good premise.

Written for:

The Thunderbolt Set in the Black Market sold by Liza in the Ultimate Battle Competition over in the HPFC forum headed by SiriusMauraderFan and Angelo Della Mangolia.

The Quidditch Pitch in The Howarts Houses Challenges Forum headed by the the lovely Clairebear1982 and Little. Miss. Xanda : (Song) Bring Me To Life by Evanescence

Potions Assignment Number 3 taught by the awesome Kayleighjo312 in The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft &Wizadry (Challenges & Assignments Forum) Headed by the lovely Screaming Faeries


	2. Drabble 2: FawkesHarry

Drabble #2: Fawkes/Harry (Platonic but could turn into Love later...I may just entertain that...)

Emotions: Innocence and pure affection.

Rating: T

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He was nothing but a bird. One of man's best friends, and a pretty thing muggles would try to put in a zoo.

He wasn't supposed to have any opinions or feelings, but he did. At first, it caused a giant commotion. After all, why would a bird not eventually bow down to humanity's will after being poked and prodded? Shouldn't he have given up already?

No. No, he didn't. Instead he rose from the ashes like the phoenix he was, and left. Soaring across the sky, and enjoying the freedom it brought him. However, freedom would not keep him alive. You see, he was only a tiny chick. Small enough to hold in your hand, yet bright enough that you noticed him from a mile away.

His fiery orange feathers shined in the sun, and he soared higher and higher. Successfully bringing awe to all who gazed upon him.

Phoenix's were rare, and everyone wanted one. However, this phoenix wouldn't let anyone but who he deemed worthy hold him, and that's how he came across one Albus Dumbledore and ended up where he was now.

Albus wasn't like the Muggles and Wizards who tried to keep him for their own gain. Instead the old wizard generally cared for his well being and supplied him with food and the other necessities he needed. It was a welcome change from all the manipulation and general horrid behavior the bird saw on a daily basis, so the phoenix enjoyed the refreshing company of Dumbledore.

It wasn't until 5 years have passed that the bird decided that yes, if he were to ever bond to a human for life, it would be with Albus Dumbledore. It was with this revelation that the bird slowly reached out and started the beginning of a bond so strong that it would go down through history as a legend.

Centuries passed and Fawkes had never regretted the moment he had bonded to Albus. Albus, upon finding out via the telepathy they gained through the bond, gave Fawkes his name. Fawkes had never been so happy, and preened the whole day. Showering the castle with love and happiness. His feathers grew an even more radiant orange, and Albus chuckled at seeing his companion so happy.

Yes, life was good.

It wasn't until a couple of decades passed that the Prophecy had been recited. Albus was torn up about it because he hated the fact that they would have to burden a newly born _child_ with the duty of saving the Wizarding World from a mad man. Fawkes, hating to see his human feeling so distraught, immediately told Albus via there connection that he could always do something about Voldemort before the child was born.

Albus at first thought the idea was stupid. After all, the prophecy basically said that only the boy could do it. However, Fawkes wisely pointed out that Prophecies weren't set in stone, and certain actions could easily prevent it from coming true.

The words rang through Albus's soul, and immediatley the man set about destroying Voldemort.

It took decades, but soon enough the man was defeated. Harry James Potter, the 'Chosen One' of the prophecy, got to live his life in peace, and grew close to both Albus and Fawkes when he was born.

The young five year old saw Albus as his wise old grandfather, and Fawkes as a companion to share for life. Harry's parents, James Potter and Lily Potter, immediately saw the bond between the trio and continually let Harry stay over at the Castle so he could be with 'Gwandpa Al and Uncle Fwakess' as Harry liked to call them in his childish voice.

It wasn't until one rather boring august morning when Harry suddenly realized that he had never pet Fawkes before. In his mind he had liked to think of Fawkes as another living breathing human companion, so he never actually ran his hand along the soft looking feathers of the Phoenix.

His childish mind couldn't take the curiosity now brimming inside of it, so Harry bolted towards Albus's office. Already knowing that the man was in there doing paperwork for the school.

Upon walking inside, he hugged his grandfather quickly and ran towards Fawkes side.

The wisened bird stared at him for a while in confusion, and Harry looked straight into Fawkes eyes before looking at his feathers.

Fawkes seemed to understand because he purred his approval to Harry, and butted his hand with his head. Staring at the bird, Harry hesitantly brought his hand towards the birds feathers and rubbed soothingly.

Almost instantly, Fawkes preened under his touch. Growing confident, Harry stroked them soothingly gently humming in contentment.

Both of them were so into the moment, that they didn't notice the twinkling blue eyes of Dumbledore as he watched on. Loving and relishing in the pureness in the air.

Yes...Life was good.

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Written for:

The Ultimate Battle Competition in the HPFC forum. Angel Wings- A small child wants to pet Fawkes. Any Word Count.

The Drabble Club in the Hogwarts Houses Challenges Forum. Prompt: (word) Awe.


	3. Drabble 3: SiriusJames

Drabble #3: Sirius/James

Emotions: Hurt/Comfort and Friendship

Rating: T

* * *

"James, come on! Tell me what's wrong!" Sirius whined. His friend was scaring him. He had been quite ever since he had come back from going to see Lily, and Sirius dreaded to know what had caused his normally cocky and peppy friend to be reduced to such a sorry state.

It had been four days since then, and James didn't look good. His beautiful hazel eyes were now outlined with dark black rings from lack of sleep, and his clothes were messy. His hair was in a disray, and Sirius didn't even _want_ to know where the hell that smell was coming from.

He hated that his friend now cried silently in random intervals and that at random times, a rage so powerful would gleam in James' eyes.

It worried him to death, and Padfoot didn't know what to do.

Should he go up to Lily and demand an answer, or should he just stay and wait for his friend to come out of it? He hated seeing him like this.

James and he had the relationship that Sirius had always longed to have with his younger brother, and Pafoot had grown to care deeply for him.

They were brothers no matter what others said about Sirius's family being death eaters. He didn't care about that. All he cared about was getting his friend out of this horrid state he had fallen into.

Turning towards James, Sirius whispered pleadingly, "James...please? I can't stand seeing you like this. How can I help you?" His voice cracked towards the end, and Padfoot had to close his eyes from the sudden onslaught of pain that wracked his heart.

James turned unseeing black eyes towards Sirius, and whispered the words that Padfoot dreaded to ear.

"When I walked in to her dorms she was in a heated embrace with Malfoy. He had already had her naked and was carressing her skin...Pads, I don't know what to do. She...Lil's cheated on me..." James trailed off. Hidden anger but also despair colored his words, and Sirius winced at the sorrow that radiated off of his friend.

How could Lily do such a thing after all James had done for her? James had given her his heart, body, and soul, and this is what she does?

She was a bitch now in Sirius's books, and he would make sure that he made her life hell from now on.

 _No one_ messed with his family, and if anyone thought that the Black's legendary insanity had passed over him then they were surely mistaken.

He would make her regret the day she was born, and he smirked maliciously in delight. Oh how he couldn't wait to make her suffer.

Turning his attention back to his friend, Sirius frowned softly. This was affecting James greatly, and he hated it. Taking his arm, he draped it across James' shoulder, and just let his friend cry.

They were silent for a while and the only sounds that could be heard through the room was James sobs as he let out all of the pain and frustration that clouded his soul.

Padfoot's arm soothingly rubbed circles into James skin, and when the sobs grew a little more violent, Sirius whispered into his friends ear that it was okay and he wouldn't let that bitch hurt him anymore.

When the crying finally ceased, James sat for awhile in Sirius' embrace. Relishing in the comfort and warmth his friend provided.

Soon, he pulled himself away from the comforting warmth and smiled softly. If it was a little shaky no one mentioned it.

"Thanks, Pads." James whispered softly, looking into Sirius gray orbs. Smiling softly, Sirius placed a kiss on James' forehead knowing that James wouldn't read anything into it.

They were brothers, and no matter what they would stick together.

* * *

Oh my gosh, Fire has found a new ship. If you know any great fics featuring these to together, please, please, tell me.

Written for:

The Ultimate Battle Competition in the HPFC forum. Staff of Marauder in the Black Market.


	4. Drabble 4: SnapeHarry

Drabble 4: Snape/Harry

Emotions: Love and Angst

Rating: M

* * *

He knew that it was wrong, yet he couldn't do anything about it.

Everyday he dreamt of entrancing emerald orbs and a love so deep that it brought tears to his eyes when he woke up only to find out it was a dream.

When he closed his eyes, he could see the beautiful face of Harry James Potter looking at him in concern while those petite fingers slowly caressed his cheek.

That meliodic voice would ask him if he was okay, and he'd be filled with happiness as he realized that the one he longed for so much cared for him.

He hated that he couldn't have what he so desperatly wanted, and in retaliation he unconciously berated the object of his affection.

Everytime he saw those emerald eyes dim with pain because of what he said, Severus would feel a sense of self loathing so deep that he almost wanted to kill himself.

He hated when Harry was on the brink of tears, and more often than not he turned towards firewhiskey for comfort.

Today however he was determined not to hurt the emerald eye'd teen, and even praised him when Harry had gotten the potion right. He didn't ask any questions that he knew the teen wouldn't know the answer to, nor did he say anything rude towards the teen.

Instead he was on his best behavior, and he saw perfectly how much it freaked the teen out. His lips twitched when he saw those Green eyes grow wide in shock, and he relished in the fact that he was able to shock the teen.

Turning away when he saw that one of the dunderheads the school called his 'students' about to kill them all by putting in wolfsbane in the Draught of Living Death, Snape failed to see the look of desire and longing that flashed in Harry's eyes as he took in the graceful form of his 'teacher'.

Long yet slightly greasy hair framed a pale face, and charcoal eyes laid beneath perfectly trimmed eyebrows. His body while lithe was strong and muscular. Showcasing, the numerous hours he spent excercising in order to get it that way.

The man was perfect, and despite the fact that numerous people would disagree, Harry didn't give a damn. He loved Snape, and he _would_ get him if it was the last thing he did.

As soon as class was over, Harry stayed behind and ignored the stares from his classmates. Once the last student was out of the classroom, he turned towards the potions master who was gazing at him in confusion, and smiled.

He knew that Snape was completely puzzled as to why Harry would be smiling at _him_ of all people, but Harry ignored it and instead zoned in on how cute his professor looked like that.

"Mr. Potter, why have you chosen to deign me with your presence?" Snape asked after a couple of minutes of just staring at each other.

Startled, Harry blinked before finally the question registered in his mind and he smirked. Thoroughly enjoying the look of shock on Snape's face as he boldly strided towards him, and strattled his lap on Snape's desk chair.

Snape seemed to snap out of his stupor, and for a moment everything was silent.

However, Harry didn't miss the flash of lust and longing that appeared in those inky black eyes.

Smiling, he leaned in close until his lips barely ghosted along Severus's and whispered, "Well, professor, you see there's this potions master that I really like, but i'm not quite sure he likes me back."

Severus smiled against his lips and whispered teasingly, "Then why Mr. Potter are you here with me? Shouldn't you be telling him how much you like him?" Harry smiled back, and moved to nuzzle his cheek against Snape's.

"How about I show them?" He whispered seductively before crashing his lips against Snapes. Snape was frozen for a mere moment before he returned Harry's passion ten fold.

There were a mound of limbs and right there in the classroom, they explored one anothers bodies and planted the seeds for a romance that would be so strong in the future that no one would have any chance of breaking it.

* * *

Written for:

Ultimate Battle Competition over in the HPFC forum. Three Single Accessories because Mama wants a shoulder pet or Gloves.


	5. Drabble 5: DracoHarry

Drabble 5: Draco/Harry

Emotions: Love and slight Angst

Rating: T (My, my. There seems to be a lot of this here. Maybe, I should write some good 'ol smut soon?)

* * *

Harry didn't know how Draco and he had become an item.

One moment they were scrubbing out cauldrons on Snape's demand, and the next they were locked in a heated embrace. Their hands were all over the other, and whispered declarations of their love and utter _loathing_ for the other came in harsh pants as they struggled to take control of the passion that simply ran wild between them.

After that day they were both akward around each other, but upon deciding that they need to 'man up' as they put it, they quickly put a stop to that behavior and talked about it.

They both decided that they wanted each other to much to just walk away from this _thing_ they seemed to have, and it was that day that they made the best decision of their lives.

Now, two years later, they were happy and were at the end of their seventh year of Hogwarts. However, despite their happiness they never did tell the school or anyone for that matter that they were an item.

Harry had decided that it was simply to much of a risk since Voldemort had yet to be stopped, and if the tabloids were to get ahold of this, it would cause a scandal like never before.

Unfortunately, the Wizarding World was still in the panicking stage and accused anybody and everybody with influence or power of being a Death Eater.

It also didn't help that Lucius Malfoy had been allegedly seen buying 'Dark' books in Knockturn Alley. It was simply better to just stay in the shadows and relish in the peace Harry and his lover had when together.

Draco was unlike anything Harry imagined. Yes, he knew that the Malfoy heir was intelligent but he never knew exactly how kind and considerate Draco could be.

It was moments like these that Harry regretted turning down Draco's friendship when they were younger. He hated that he had foolishly believed in the prejudice surrounding Slytherin house because according to Draco, the Slytherin's weren't evil.

Yes, some did evil things, but it was mostly because they felt trapped. Their families worked for Voldemort, and even when they tried to switch sides, the Light side would treat them as trash and the lowest of the low.

It sickened Harry to know that the Light side treated others like that. When Draco saw the genuine regret on Harry's face, he smiled softly and kissed him on the forehead. "It's alright." He would whisper soothingly, and each time Harry would think that he simply didn't _deserve_ Draco.

Draco was so compassionate and sweet, and Harry was just...well _Harry._ Sometimes, he honestly didn't see what Draco saw in him.

"Harry." Someone called from beside him. Startled out of his thoughts, Harry turned around only to see his boyfriend standing beside him with a smile on his face. ' _Speak of the devil and he shall appear.'_ He thought sarcastically to himself.

They were in the Great Hall which was eeirly silent thanks to the fact that it was time for class. However, both Harry and Draco had a free period right now so they had both agreed to come here and spend what little time they had left of their seventh year here to just bask in what would most likely be the last of their peaceful lives for a long while thanks to the war.

Harry smiled back and slipped his hand into Draco's, humming when Draco pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him.

It was sweet and Harry loved every minute of the tender embrace. It wasn't often they got moments like this thanks to Ron and Hermione trying to hang out with Harry, and Pansy and Blaise trying to do things with Draco as well.

They stood in silence for a while. Simply enjoying the others presence and releasing the tension in their bodies.

However, the moment was ruined when a loud voice echoed throughout the Hall.

"Harry!" It was Ron's voice, and Harry groaned as he buried his nose in Draco's shoulder. Trying hard to ignore the soft chuckling coming from Draco at Harry's misfortune.

"You don't think he saw do you? If so, do you think he knows?" Harry asked softly. He knew the answer of course, but hey! Could you blame him for hoping that his usually judgemental friend didn't see his supposedly _straight_ bestfriend embracing his _rival?_

No you couldn't.

Draco simply raised an eyebrow, arms still around Harry, knowing that Harry knew what he was doing despite not seeing his face.

"Harry!" Ron's voice was closer and Harry reluctantly pulled away from Draco's embrace, but made sure to keep their hands intertwined.

"Yes, Ron?" He sighed. Ron crossed the Great Hall until he stood right before Draco and Harry, and put his hand on his hip. Perfectly mimicking Hermione when Ron said something that she didn't particularly like.

"What are you doing with The Ferret?" He asked skeptically. Harry sighed once more, and just raised an eyebrow in an extremely Draco like fashion. Dang...It seemed like he was spending to much time watching Draco.

"His name is Draco, Ron." Harry said, tone clipped. He wasn't in the mood for this. All he wanted was to return to Draco's embrace and just curl up together somewhere warm and peaceful.

Ron's eyes widened at Harry's use of Draco's name, and suddenly his eyes widened as he looked down to their intertwined hands. His mouth opened and closed several times before he visibly pulled himself together and turned to glare at them both.

"And when where you going to tell me that you and Draco were together?" His tone, while slightly hostile, sounded betrayed.

Harry stared at Ron for a moment, and was about to open his mouth when Draco smootly cut in.

"Harry doesn't have to tell you anything if he doesn't want to, and plus you would have flipped out." Draco radiated hostilitly. Showing that if he had to, he wouldn't hesitate to fight Ron if he were to suddenly decide to get violent, but to both of their surprise, Ron simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow at them both.

"Why would I flip out? I knew Harry was gay for years, and already knew you guys had an abundance of sexual tension between you. I would have like to know so I could get my money." Ron hissed, sounding genuinley pissed off. Harry paused and staired incrediously at the red head. What did Ron mean by money?

"What do you mean money, and what in the bloody hell do you mean by sexual tension?!" He questioned, slightly hysterical.

Ron simply grinned, and said, "Did you seriously think know one noticed how much you wanted to jump Draco's bones when you were in the same room, no wait... How much you wanted Draco to jump _your_ bones?" Here Ron laughed before continuing. Ignoring, Harry's look of shock.

"It was pretty obvious, mate. Tch. And you say _i'm_ oblivous. Also, didn't you know? There's a bet going on in both Gryffindor and Slytherin on if you guys were gonna realize for yourself how much you wanted each other before the end of our time in Hogwarts. I betted on you guys getting together, so I win." Ron smiled maliciously, and Harry just stared in shock for a moment.

How in the bloody hell did he not realize that his friends were conspiring against him?

However, looking at Ron now, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was happy that he didn't have to hide this secret from his friends, and one look at Draco showed that the blond felt the same way.

Smiling like a loon, he launched himself at Ron and hugged the life out of his best friend.

Yes, it was good to be happy for once.

* * *

Written for:

Hopscotch Challenge in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments Forum)


	6. Drabble 6: FenrirHarry

Drabble 6: Fenrir/Harry

Emotions: Love and Angst

Rating: M

* * *

Why does it have to be like this?

Would I always have to sneak to the Forbidden Forest when the clock struck twelve? Would I have to pray to whatever god was out there that no one noticed that i'm missing, or hears me as I leave?

I'm sick of having to pretend that I wasn't in love. I'm sick of being tormented with the knowledge that the Wizarding World believed that I had no right to fall in love like a teenager my age should. Instead, they think that my sole responsibility and right in life is to save their sorry arses from Voldemort, and it makes me so mad.

Truthfully, I have nothing against Voldy. The man knew what he wanted, and wasn't afraid of getting it. In the beginning he tried to do it the right way and started a group named the Knights of Walpurgis, but no one paid attention to them. Everyone believed that they were just kids who were trying to become mixed up in 'adult' matters. To be honest, if I were in Tom's shoes when that happened, I probably would have ended up the same way.

It was the populous of the Wizarding World themselves that drove him to killing people in cold blood in order to get what he wanted, and I couldn't fault him for that.

All this goes to show that the only real enemy of the Wizarding World are themselves. They cause mayhem, and it makes my blood boil because they think that it's my duty as the ' _Chosen One'_ to save them all.

I hate it. All I want is to be able to go see my lover in peace.

Fenrir Greyback isn't a bad man. Yes, he's a werewolf but he was turned against his will. He had no say whatsover in whether or not he'd become one.

I love the wolf. He's sweet, charming, intelligent, and has a sense of humor that never fails to make me almost crap my pants inbetween my giggles.

I know that if I were to ever choose someone to spend my life with, it would be him so that's why i'm currently carefully making my way to the window with my firebolt and invisibility cloak in hand.

Turning to my door, I stared long and hard at my sleeping dorm mates. They were just kids, and I couldn't fault them for looking to me to fix their problems. Their parents probably spent hours recounting stories of a legendary hero called 'The Boy Who Lived' who would save them all from the evil wizard known as Voldemort. The only thing bad about that is that the story is real, and i'm expected to kill him even at the cost of my life.

With a sigh, I hopped on my broom and raced towards the forest.

I hoped that they wouldn't hate me for what i'm going to do, but it's time for me to stop being selfless. I deserve happiness to, and _nothing_ will get in my way.

* * *

Fenrir was so beautiful as a wolf. His fur was a beautiful gray that stood out amongst the slight glow that surrounded the forest.

His eyes were an electric blue that pierced through into my soul everytime he looked at me, and I could feel the blush that no doubt appeared on my cheeks as I realized that I _really_ liked when the wolf looked at me like I was his prey.

Oh stinky Merlin's balls... I did _not_ just think that.

Fenrir seemed to know exactly what was going through my head because he let out a loud rumbling laugh, and pierced me with his eyes.

I shivered in pleasure, and butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach. One look from him could bring me to my knees faster than a well trained duelist, and the thought would have scared me if I didn't know the man as well as I did.

He wouldn't ever betray me, and I don't say this out of misplaced arrogance. The wolf genuinly cares for me and see's me as a pup. Contrary to popular belief, Fenrir never touched children. Sure, he got Remus Lupin, but that wasn't his fault.

Remus's father had come to him because the boy was ill and scheduled to die, and the man just _couldn't_ imagine a life without his son in it. Fenrir tried to talk some sense into the man because he _knew_ that this would ruin young Remus's life, but the man wasn't having it.

Instead he threatened Fenrir saying that he was going to go to another wolf and pay them hundreds of galleons to turn his son. Fenrir knew that any other wolf would make it as painful as possible because all they would care for would be the money, so he warned the man one last time before turning Remus.

True to his word, Remus' life had been forever messed up because of the development and the young wolf now loathed Fenrir, and wanted to kill him.

 _'Too bad Remy will never know what Fenrir really did for him.'_ I thought sadly. When I asked him why he wouldn't tell the young wolf, he said that Remus needed something in his life to hate. Otherwise he would give into his despair and kill himself.

I hated the thought of Fenrir taking Remus's anger, but Fenrir's stern expression wiped all protest from me. He really was to kind sometimes.

Back to the present, I sat down on 'our' rock, and just enjoyed the tranquility the forest excluded. Numerous times, majestic magical creatures would pass by and I would just look in awe at the beauty and pureness of them. The plants excluded a magnifcent aroma that calmed me down everytime I got a wiff of it, and Fenrir and I made small talk as we sat in the silent and peaceful enviroment.

Yes...When it came down to it, I would not mind betraying the Wizarding World in order to keep the happiness that I somehow obtained with Fenrir.

* * *

Written for:

The Hopscotch Challenge in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Prompt: Forbidden Forest (Location)

The Quidditch Challenge in the Hogwarts Houses Challenges Forum. Prompt: Fenrir Greyback (Character).

The Drabble Challenge in the Hogwarts Houses Challenges Forum. Prompt: Werewolf (Creature)


	7. Drabble 7: BellaTom

Drabble 7: BellaTom

Emotion: Angst, Sadness, with a little bit of horror thrown into the mix. Don't worry Bella won't let Tom have his way.

Rating: M

Warnings: Yay! My fist drabble that requires warnings. Well, let's get started.

1\. Character Death

Now...shall we begin?

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't always crazy, nor was she always dark. When she was younger, she was a very kind child. Her hair, while long and curly, lay down her back gracefully, and her eyes were warm with love and affection. She especially loved her sister, Narcissa Nee Black, and whenever the other wasn't in the room with her, her mind would always wonder towards her beautiful sister.

Narcissa was the epitome of graceful beauty. Whenever she walked into a room, everyone's attention would be on her and they would do anything to be on her good side.

However, Bella wasn't jealous. In fact, she was rather happy that her sister was happy, and had people who cared for her. Whether it be for pure intentions or not, she knew that Narcissa would always have someone to turn to should something happen to Bella.

So, no. That wasn't the problem at all. Bella loved every second with her sister, and she had such a strong affection for her sister that many wondered whether or not Bella saw Narcissa as a possible life partner. Bella didn't, but they didn't need to know so she kept silent about it. Instead she contented herself with watching her sister as she entranced the crowds with her beauty, intelligence, and grace.

However, when Tom Riddle and Lucius Malfoy came into their lives things went to hell.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was perfect. Almost _too_ perfect when one thought about it.

He was kind, intelligent, and charming, and charmed everyone he met, but Bella wasn't buying it. She knew the man was bad news so she kept away from him and warned her beloved sister of to as well, yet Narcissa didn't feel the same.

Narcissa had grown rather attached to Mr. Riddle and hung out with them despite Bella's protest. Whenever Bella mentioned to her sister that something simply _wasn't_ right with Tom, Narcissa would vehemently defend him and tell her that she knew nothing.

It grated on Bellatrix's nerves, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she would storm away angrily because her sister just _wasn't_ getting the message.

Tom was a dangerous man, and whenever Bella saw him the smile he had on his face was almost predatory. It unnerved her, and made her feel like his pray.

In her head scenes of an innocent gazelle running away from a rampaging wolf would pop up, and she couldn't help but think that was what Tom reminded her of.

His gaze was far to calculating, and everytime he said something it always seemed to have a double meaning.

She desperatly wanted to pull Narcissa away from Tom and demand that she never talk or see Tom again, but she refrained because she knew Narcissa would just get angry and cut all her ties with her. It was for that reason, and that reason _alone_ that Bellatrix didn't try stop her sister from befriending and later dating Lucius Malfoy.

She did what a good sister would do, and instead went to the wedding. Somehow managing to smile politely, and congratulate her sister and one of the men she loathed.

She hated it, but she put up with it in order for her sister to be happy. If only she knew what would happen on their honeymoon...

* * *

It was two days after they left that the Aurors showed up to the Black manor and informed her of the fire that killed Narcissa, yet somehow let Lucius live. They went on and on about how lucky Lucius was to make it out alive, and that they were extremely sorry for her loss, yet Bella wasn't listening.

She _knew_ Lucius and Tom had something to do with her sister's death, and immediately stormed to the floo. Ignoring the aurors, she flooed directly into Tom's manor. Screeching in rage, she barged in and ran inside until finally she came upon Tom's office. With a wave of her hand, the door flew off it's hinges and Tom looked up from the paper work he was working on at his desk.

With a smile that could only be described as devilish, he smiled and pointed to the seat directly across from his. Bellatrix immediately frowned and pointed her wand at the man with an almost psychotic smile gracing her pretty features.

Tom however, didn't panic. All he did was smile in an almost placating manor as he subtly waved towards the glass of whiskey that laid innocently on the table. It seemed that the bastard knew she was coming because in his own hand he nursed his own glass.

"Bellatrix what a delight it is to see you. It's truly _unfortunate_ what happened to your sister. Poor Lucius was practically hysterical when he flooed here with Narcissa's corpse in his hands." Tom said. Bellatrix just raised an unimpressed eyebrow. If one weren't around lies and deception on a daily basis, they wouldn't see past the sincere tone and see the almost taunting air that surrounded him. She however, had no such problem since her parents made sure to get her acquainted to such things when she was a small baby.

Tom smiled, surely already aware that she knew he had something to do with the murder of her beloved sister. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something else, Bella smoothly cut in with her soft meliodic yet furious voice.

"Cut the crap, Tom. We _both_ know that you orchestrated this whole thing. My only question is _why?_ " Tom didn't frown nor did he smile. Instead, he smirked and got up from his chair, never breaking eye contact with her as he slowly sauntered up to her. His eyes were alight with devious pleasure, and she somehow knew that she wouldn't like what he was going to say.

"You want to know why, Bella?" He purred when he stood right in front of her. His right hand lifted and cupped her cheek as he leaned in a little closer until finally his lips were barely grazing hers, and their noses were nothing but an inch away.

"It's because of _you_. Narcissa is beautiul, yes, but she lacks the ruthlessness that I want. That I _crave_." Tom whispered. His breath ghosted along her lips, and Bella forced herself to surpress the shiver that came in response to his words.

Gritting her teeth, she snarled silently as she took in the mischevious blue eyes of the man. With a fierce determination, Bella decided that two could play at this game.

Smiling, she leant into him until her breast were pushed into his chest, yet she kept her lips exactly where they were.

He growled as her body moulded into his and her eyes glinted dangerously as she realized how much she was affecting him.

"Why me though? There are plenty of ruthless people out there, and what makes you think _I_ want to work for you?" She asked. Her hands came up to play with Tom's raven black hair and when he moved to answer, she pulled it sharply. Relishing in the growl that erupted from his throat, and the darkening of those intense blue eyes.

"You're playing with fire, Bella." He warned. Bella smirked, and looked back into those smouldering blue orbs. She had him _exactly_ where she wanted him.

"Oh, I know." She purred as if she were happy with the mere thought of it, and it seemed that was his undoing because his lips immediately seized hers in a scorching kiss. Deepening it slightly, she opened her eyes and brought the hand with her wand in it to his hair and began to tug on it. Enjoying the moans he released because of it. Smiling into the kiss, she pulled apart only to whisper into the still air breathlessly, "Avada Kedavra."

Immediately, the all to familiar green light zapped into existance and impacted straight with Tom's head. The last thing Tom saw before he was hit with the curse was the smirk that Bella wore, and her mouthing, "See ya in hell, bitch."

Smiling cruelly to herself when she saw her sisters murderer sprawled out on the ground, Bella sauntered back to the floo and came out back in Black Manor.

Ruthless she may be, but she would _not_ work for her sister's killer. Hmm...Now, all she had to do was find Lucius. Today would be so much _fun._

* * *

Written for:

The Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Trading and Dueling Competition in the Howarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) forum.

 **5\. (Gold)**

 **Bellatrix Lestrange:** _(1951 – 2 May, 1998) was a pure-blood witch, the daughter of Cygnus Black III and Druella Black (née Rosier) and elder sister of Andromeda Tonks and Narcissa Malfoy. She started her education at Hogwarts in 1962 and was Sorted into Slytherin house._

Challenge: Write about Bellatrix Lestrange.

The Quidditch Pitch in the Hogwarts Houses Forum.

Prompt:(Word) Devious


	8. Drabble 8: LunaHarry (His Goddess)

Drabble 8: Luna/Harry

Emotions: Sadness and Love.

Rating: T

AN: It's time for me to expirament with het. Hope you guys like the results.

* * *

She was beautiful.

Her eyes were a misty silver, and her hair was a beautiful blond that flowed fluidly down her back. Her structure was petite and moulded so perfectly with his own when he embraced her from behind.

Her hands, while slightly small, fit in his own, and whenever she opened her mouth to say something others would deem 'unrealistic' or 'made up', he would simply smile and work out in his mind the real meaning.

Luna Lovegood was the most perfect girl he had ever met, and he loved how pure and refreshing she was.

Most called her crazy but in his eyes, she was simply misunderstood. Yes, she talked about nargles and other mythical creatures that no one has heard of or seen, but when one looked closer into what she said, their was always a clue of the what the future held or something that she simply didn't wish to say in regular words.

Harry didn't want to fall in love with her specifically, but he did. She didn't care what about his 'hero' status, nor did she care that most called him a 'monster'. To her, he wasn't the insane little boy that everyone knew him as, but instead a boy who had been forced into a role by the Wizarding World.

Whenever they were alone, Luna would drop all the mask she showed to others and would instead just be herself, and he loved every second of it.

She was witty, sarcastic, and funny, and he absolutely loved her with all his heart.

He would do anything to make her happy, and to keep her protected. Even if that meant he had to give up all of his sanity to do it.

He would kill Voldemort, but he wouldn't do it for the Light side. He wouldn't do it for all of the Wizarding Families who counted on him, nor would he do it for himself.

He would do it for his beloved Luna and in the end, if people had to fall by his hand, he'd gladly do it as long as Luna was safe and happy.

He was her puppet to do with as she wished, and for some reason he knew she wouldn't abuse the power she had over him like others would.

She was as pure as the moon and when he lay defeated on the ground below, he would tell her how much he loved her until he finally took his last breath.

She was his goddess and he was her loyal servant/lover, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Written for:

Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

I wrote this purely for my own amusement. Aren't you guys proud of me? *Bats eyelashes like an idiot, and then giggles* This was fun. I think I have a new side OTP. If you know or write any Harry/Luna's let me know, and i'll _gladly_ read them.

See ya, see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!

Wait...yes I do. I want to travel and the best way to do that is to jump from my pc to yours. That way I can say i've been 'all around the world!'


	9. Drabble 9: PeevesHarry

Drabble 9: Peeves/Harry

Emotions: Love and an amazing surprise at the end for those who liked this one.

Rating: M (For mentions of ravishing.)

AN: Come on...Someone has to do it! Even ghosts can fall in love.

* * *

Harry Potter was a strange lad indeed.

He wasn't like the other foolish boys that attended Hogwarts. He wasn't overly pompous or overly cowardly. He just seemed to be a perfect mix of it.

The boy was confident but he wasn't so confident that it was annoying. Instead, the boy would walk down the halls of Hogwarts with his head held high, and helped anyone he saw that was in need.

He had a huge hero complex, but it made him all the more unique in Peeves eyes.

The ghost had met many people during his years roaming around as a ghost. All of them either believed that they were too good for things or felt that they weren't good enough, but Harry was different.

Harry felt like he was a freak, but he didn't allow himself not to try things because he felt like he couldn't do it. His temper was fierce and whenever he felt like he couldn't do something, he challenged himself to do it anyway.

The boy was intriguing in a way, and Peeves couldn't tear his eyes off of him.

In the Ghost world everyone wanted to meet Harry Potter, prophesized protector of the Wizarding World. They all felt that the boy would be a carbon copy of his father who was a known prankster, and release havoc on both Hogwarts and Voldemort, but they were wrong, oh so wrong.

After countless nights and years spying on the boy, Peeves saw that the boy wouldn't be able to do what the Wizarding World wanted him to be.

No, it wasn't that he wasn't capable of doing it, it was that he simply didn't _want_ to. The boy was cunning, and should have been in Slytherin.

In the day time, he played the sweet and brave Gryffindor to a T, but when night came his dark side came out. Immediately, his green eyes would alight with sadistic pleasure, and the things the boy would mutter made Peeves heart race in pure excitement.

The boy was so different from what everyone thought he would be. He talked of murder as if it were perfectly normal, and sometimes at night the boy would hide under his invisibility cloak and go to the Room of Requirement to practice spells that would no doubt get him expelled if he were found out because of their dark nature.

It was thrilling to see the boy at work and for the first time in years, Peeves felt excited.

It wasn't until the end of the boy's fourth year that Peeves had first had those _feelings_. It started off innocent enough.

Just him wanting to talk to the boy. He wanted Harry to know he was their watching him, but he knew he couldn't give it away, or else Harry would be on guard and he'd never be able to see the boy again.

However, over time his _feelings_ became darker and less innocent. He wanted to pin the boy to the wall and ravish him until Harry was hoarse from crying out, but he knew he couldn't even if he wanted to because he was a mere ghost. However, that didn't stop him wanting to touch the teen.

In his fantasies, he imagined himself stroking the teen in the dead of night. Teasing him until the boy was whimpering beneath his touch, and begging for more but having to keep it silent lest he wake up his dorm mates.

Peeves knew he would enjoy hearing the boys sounds and sometimes he desperately wished the boy would die, so he could have him all for himself yet he knew that was impossible.

Sigh.

Sometimes being a ghost was hard.

Choosing to focus on the boy that lyed so innocently on his bed in Gryffindor tower, Peeves was _not_ expecting to look straight into emerald green orbs.

Knowing he had been caught, he was about to float through the walls when suddenly the boys expression turned into a fierce glare.

It was as if he was saying 'Try to escape and see what happens' and Peeves knew exactly what the boy was capable of, so he stayed where he was.

The boy's glare relaxed until he was smiling, and Peeves felt fear coarse into his non existant veins.

...What the hell would the boy do to him now that he had been caught.

* * *

AN: Surprise! Cliffhanger just for you! I liked this idea to much to only write a drabble for it, so there _may be_ a longer fic for this pair soon. I'll get back to you on that.

Written for:

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards and Trading & Dueling Club!

 **4\. (Silver)** **Eupraxia Mole:** _In 1876, caretaker Rancorous Carpe devised an "elaborate trap" in an effort to remove Peeves, the resident Poltergeist, from the Castle, which failed. The Castle had to be evacuated for three days as Peeves amused himself by firing weapons randomly and threatening the students with death._

Challenge: Incorporate Peeves into your story. 


	10. Drabble 10: HermioneSnape

Drabble 10: Hermione/Snape

Emotions: Love and Sadness

Rating: M

* * *

She was beautiful, and everytime he so much as looked in her direction, he had to immediately look away to stop the raging desire to take and claim her as his.

He wanted her so badly, yet he knew that he couldn't have her, and it drove him insane. He wanted to be the reason her adorable little nose scrunched up in confusion, and he wanted to be the reason that she giggled so uncontrollably that she lost her breath. He wanted to see her beautiful brown orbs twinkle in happiness, and hear her contented sigh as she burrowed deeper into his chest.

He wanted this and so much more, and it pained him so much to know that he could _never_ have it. It was simply to wrong. She was the student, and he was the Professor. They couldn't be together even if he wanted them to be. He was decades older than her, and she deserved _so_ much better than some stubborn dungeon bat like him.

However, that wouldn't stop him from looking from a far. She couldn't be his, but that didn't mean he couldn't secretly be hers.

If need be, he'd stay in the shadows as her silent protecter and keep her safe from the Death Eaters that seeked retribution. He wouldn't allow her to be killed for her participation in the war, and he'd be damned if he let anyone dim the pureness that was Hermione Granger.

No, he'd ensure that the intelligent and sweet witch was safe and happy, and if that cost his own happiness than so be it.

He had the connections he needed due to him being a double spy while the war was still raging. He could do this. His only hope was that in the end, he maintained his sanity, and didn't lash out if he ever saw his beloved with another wizard.

While the road he carved was a hard one, he'd keep trecking it if that ensured her happiness, for he'd do _anything_ for Hermione Granger.

She was his drug and his addiction yet despite the pain it caused him, he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Written for:

Fanfiction Dominos in the HPFC forum. Pairing: Hermione/Snape.


	11. Drabble 11: TomHarry (Mine)

Drabble 11: Tom/Harry

Emotions: Jealousy, Hatred, and Love

Rating: M

* * *

 _ **~Tom POV~**_

Pure rage consumed my mind as I watched Harry bloody Potter walk around a muggle town with that red headed bimbo, Ginny. The girl had been bothering Harry for days, and it drove me insane.

It was supposed to be _me_ that made Harry crack a smile, and it was supposed to be _me_ that was strolling beside Harry throughout the quaint town.

Oh, I knew Harry only agreed to go on a date with the slut in order to make me jealous, but damnit it was working! Never before had I, Tom Riddle, had to feel the bitter sting of jealousy as the man that I secretly loved swept a woman off of her feet.

The blasted woman had the audacity to turn a bright pink as _my_ Harry paid a street vendor for a bright red apple to bestow upon her.

Hatred and bile immediately sprung in my throat, and I just wanted to _murder_ the bitch. Didn't she know that you weren't supposed to mess with another persons man even if they had yet to claim them? I mean seriously! Isn't there a book about these things?!

Snarling, I watched as Harry chuckled at something she said, and suddenly I couldn't take it.

I am Lord Voldemort. The most powerful Dark Lord of the century, and I'd be _damned_ if I let some little girl take away my man.

Storming up to the pair, I swiftly pulled out my wand and cursed the bitch before she knew what was happening. One minute she was laughing, and the next her eyes went wide as she was hit by my powerful cruciatus curse. Luckily, I was able to swiftly cast a silencing spell as soon as she was about to open her mouth to scream, and quickly cast a stunning spell in quick succession.

All throughout my little scene, Harry just smirked knowingly and when I roughly grabbed ahold of his arm in order to apparate, he gladly let me.

Rage erupted in my gut and as soon as we appeared in the Dungeon's of Riddle Manor, I immediately thew the bitches body to the wall and conjured chains to appear on her hands and attached them to the wall.

With that done, I harshly pulled Harry's face down and pressed my lips to his. Immediately we engaged in a heated battle of dominance, and I felt triumph rise in my chest as I realized that I had gotten the nonchalant bastard that was Harry to submit to me.

Pleased, I released him and allowed us to catch some much needed breath.

"You're insufferable." Harry whispered into the suddenly scorching air around us. Cocking an eyebrow as if to say 'You expected anything else?', I stayed silent as I caught my breath. Finally, not feeling like I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, I grabbed a fist full of his shirt and brought his face just inches to mine.

Snarling into his face, I growled out the word 'Mine' and apparated us to my room so I could have my wicked way with him.

 _No one_ got with my man, and that was that.

* * *

Written for:

The Hopscotch Challenge in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. (Challenges & Assignments)

Prompts:

"You're insufferable." (Dialouge)

Hatred (Emotion)

Pink (word)

Apples (Word)


	12. Drabble 12: DeathHarry

Drabble 12: Death/Harry

Emotions: Sadness and Betrayal

Rating: T

Warnings: Character Death

* * *

One moment he was laughing with his friends, and in the next he was struggling for his life in the Black Lake because one of his friends roughly shoved his shoulders.

Tears escaped his eyes as he gasped. His body kept submerging completely and emerging, and the cycle seemed endless as he lay there kicking out his arms and legs.

Screams ripped themselves from his throat, and the only thing he could think of was the fact that the water was dreadfully cold. The cold sent him back into his times in his cupboard, and his screams grew in strength as his mind tortured him with memories.

Darkness...

Loneliness...

Starvation...

Pain...

Everything hurt and his screams were loud and piercing, successfully breaking the peaceful atmosphere that had settled around him mere moments before when he was hanging out with his friends.

His vision was getting blurry, and he felt lightheaded when he heard the words he dreaded to hear from his best friends, Ron's, mouth.

"Finally. The freaks better off dead." With that said, footsteps faded in and out of his ears as the cycle continued on. He wanted to scream for his best friends to come back. To ask Ron and Hermione to help him, but he knew it was all for naught.

His surroundings steadily went darker until he finally ceased his struggles, and allowed himself to fully submerge.

Bubbles appeared at the spot he used to be, and the icy cold sensation of the water prickling at his senses nearly overwhelmed him.

His body was sluggish as he floated aimlessly down, and in his last moments he was hit with such a sudden clarity that it brought tears to his eyes.

He could see through everything his friends said and did, and saw the real intent behind their actions.

Whenever Hermione would tell him and Ron to do their homework, she always condescended him. Acting as if he was a mere child that needed to be scolded and told what to do.

Whenever something good happened to him, Ron would practically vibrate in jealousy. Trying and succeeding to put him down, so he wouldn't be happy.

When Harry had lost Padfoot, Ron and Hermione had shown no real sympathy and instead subtly reminded him that it was his fault that Sirius was dead. Hermione would constantly remind him of the night when Harry foolishly went ahead to the Ministry without telling the adults, and in the end lured Sirius there only for him to be killed.

Harry could only guess that now that the war was over and Voldemort was defeated, they figured they didn't need him anymore.

He was their puppet and tool but when everything was said and done, his strings were to be cut and he would be released into Death's arms. He couldn't have any thoughts of his own nor could he have freedom, so when they felt like he was getting to independent or happy, they sent him to the Dursley's to be beaten into submission and reminded of his 'station'.

He was a mere toy to them, and now that he lay sinking in the water dying steadily, he knew that he was never going to be free.

The chains that had been bound to him because of the prophecy had never come off, and now it was time for them to pull him under.

Closing his eyes, Harry felt no fear. He was a mere puppet in the end, and puppet's don't feel. They merely follow the whims of their masters will.

Stopping his struggle to breathe, Harry finally died as he slowly fell to the floor of the lake. Awaiting him was a dark figure covered in a black robe, his face shrouded by the darkness of his hood. A sythe was in the figures hand, but they didn't let that deter them as they slowly brought Harry's body into their eager hands.

"Don't worry Master... I will protect you, and you _will_ get your revenge." Nodding to himself beneath his hood, Death dissappeared with Harry within his embrace.

Nothing would hurt his Master if he had any say about it, and he'd make sure that Harry became the betrayer and not the betrayed.

* * *

Written for:

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Trading & Dueling Club

Card:

 **(Gold)** **Kelpie:** _is a shapeshifting water demon native to Britain and Ireland. Able to take any form, they usually take the form of a horse with a bullrush mane. After luring unwary travellers onto their backs, they drag them underwater and eat them, allowing the entrails to float to the surface of the water._

Challenge: Your story must take place beneath some body of water. 


	13. Drabble 13: RabastanHarry (Condemned)

Drabble 13: Rabastan/Harry

Emotions: Lust, corruptedness, and malevolance.

Rating: M

* * *

 ** _~Rabastan POV~_**

I am despicable, and vile. A man whose soul has already been condenmed to hell and is blood soaked. There is no redemption for me, and I accept that.

I'm a evil in this world that needs to be defeated, but I won't go down without a fight. My soul has already been damned, so why not blacken it a little more to guarantee my place in hell?

There is no savior for me, and I will relish in the destruction that I shall cause before I die a lonely and painful death. I won't experience happiness, but I shall be content in the blood flow.

The darkness is my home, and I will gladly take solace in the shadows. The light is my enemy, and I acknowledge that.

...Well, I _used_ to acknowledge that.

* * *

It all started when I was sent by my 'Master' to go and retrieve the Potter brat from his relatives house. Upon arriving at the scene with my brother in tow, we easily bypassed the blood wards and snuck into the house.

Everything was quiet and the soft sound of windchimes sounded through the air as the leaves of dozens of tree's danced to their tune.

Everything was peaceful. Almost _too_ peaceful.

Rudolphus looked at me with an expression I could only call pure suspicion, and we carefully walked around the living room to make sure nothing was amiss.

Upon finding nothing wrong, we were about to climb up the stairs when we heard the faint rustling of clothes coming from a little door attached to the bottom.

Nodding to my brother, we each took stance on each side of the door and I slowly opened it.

Gray eyes immediately met emerald, and it felt as if time seemed to stop.

Purity, corruptedness, innocence and utter tranquility radiated through those entrancing emerald orbs, and it nearly overwhelmed me.

He was like a painting that showed humanity for what it was. Corrupted, dark, greedy, innocent, pure, and tranquil. Each color contradicted itself and left the viewer in awe of the sheer magnificence it left behind.

Suddenly, the picture of his canvas right next to the canvas of my soul appeared in my minds eye, and I just _knew_ that I had to have him.

It wasn't love, nor was it affection that made me want him.

It was the sheer darkness of my will. I didn't want to love him, nor did I want him to love me. All I wanted was for him to be mine, and I would do _anything_ to get him. Even if it meant betraying my so called 'Master'. It's a good thing I planned on leaving the Death Eater's ranks soon anyway. Might as well go earlier.

Looking up at my brother, I saw he was staring intensely at the boy in the cupboard. Finally deciding to pay attention to something other than the boy's eyes, I trailed my gaze over his body.

The boy was thin, and his skin was a sickly shade of gray. His clothing was ripped and in tatters, and dried blood was splattered onto his skin.

He was far from perfect, but to me he was stunning. He was imperfection at his finest, and I eagerly traced the multitude of scars that littered his small frame.

He was _beautiful_.

I wanted him, and i'd be damned if I didn't get him. Meeting my brother's eyes, I grinned when he sighed. He knew what I wanted, and by his defeated sigh I knew he would help me get it.

Sometimes, it pays to have a brother with a soul as black as yours.

Grabbing my canvas's hand, I linked my arms with my brother and apparated us to a nice little cottage on the seaside.

It was close enough to civilization to prevent it from looking as if we were hiding from something, but far enough that no one would hear the screams of torture our victims would let out if we tortured them.

It was perfect for me and my little canvas.

Smirking, I looked down at the huddled up figure at my feet. The boy was damaged, but I would help him turn his brokeness to a better kind of madness.

* * *

It's been five years since he's moved in with me, and my little canvas had grown up quite well. The once haunted emerald orbs now held a blood thirst that could never be quenched, and harsh storms of pure insanity sometimes swirled in his eyes.

Everyday, Harry would end anothers life in a cruel and painful way, and the screams his victims let out were like music to my ears.

His contradicting soul stayed the way it was, but the malevolance was more pronounced. He was becoming more and more damaged as time went on, and it was _beautiful_.

At first he refused to be mine, and refused to follow my wishes but overtime his will slowly broke as his mind replayed the horrors he endured in life.

Eventually he became noncholant and simply didn't care about life. I remember his words on the day that he finally submitted to my wishes. They were so amazingly vicious that even now they leave me shivering in pure desire.

 _"They hurt me 'Bastan... I was to die so they could live, and if I didn't they'd kill me anyways. To them, I have no purpose in life, yet that's not true. I shall submit for now, but know that my will shall always remain. I shall do solely what I want to do, and if you dare to tell me to do something after I said no, I **will**_ _kill you."_

The threat was lovely, and suddenly a fierce longing to _claim_ the boy before me almost overwhelmed me.

He didn't argue nor did he fight it. Instead, he eagerly met my thrust and I roughly took him.

It wasn't about love nor was it about affection. It was simply our _lust_ controlling our actions. He was mine, and he would always be mine. I would do anything to keep him with me, and if that means I have to further blacken my soul then that was okay.

We were both already condemned to hell, so why don't we ensure our stay?

* * *

Written for:

Ultimate Chocolate Frogs Cards Trading & Duelling Club in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Forum.

 **3\. (Silver):** **Rabastan Lestrange:** _was a pure-blood wizard, brother of Rodolphus, brother-in-law of Bellatrix, possibly son of Lestrange and likely a Slytherin at Hogwarts._

Challenge: Write about Rabastan Lestrange.


	14. Drabble 14: RonHermioneHarry

Drabble 14: Ron/Hermione/Harry (Platonic) The Hollow Doll

Emotions: Angst

Rating: T

* * *

Death, despair, and decay…

On Harry's dresser, a parchment sat. In large black ink, the words stood out and Harry sighed as he slowly traced each one with his thumb. They were special, for they represented what remained in the world after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Death for those who lost their lives during the bloodshed.

Despair for those left behind.

Decay for those who lost their hearts due to the grief that consumed their souls.

Everyone who participated in the battle belonged to one of those groups.

Hermione and Ron to despair, Fred to death, and Draco to decay. Where did Harry go, you ask?

Harry went to all three.

He lost his life in the split second where Voldemort shot the killing curse at him, succumbed to despair when Sirius and all of his loved one's died, and finally decayed when he began to have nightmares. Nightmares that told the truth of how he should be dead, and that he should have taken the other's places.

Nightmares showing that his parents and everyone who ever helped him, hated him and only wanted him so they could win the war.

It hurt. Insanely so, but he forged on.

Yes, he was dead inside, but the wizarding world wouldn't rebuild itself.

Looking at Hermione and Ron, Harry could feel the bitter sting of jealousy. The two were able to move on after the deaths of their loved ones, and now lived a happy life together. They were sickeningly sweet, and Harry hated it. He wanted someone special to, yet he never spoke a word about the horrible thoughts that plagued his mind. He felt terrible for being so selfish, but it was true. He desperately wanted someone to share his pain with, and someone he could take the pain off wanted to be loved and loved in return, yet he knew it would never happen.

Smiling almost bitterly, Harry walked towards his office. Shortly after the war, the populous had demanded that he be Minister to pay him back for his services, yet he thought differently. In the privacy of his mind, Harry thought that they only did it so they would have a person capable of saving their arses once things hit the fan.

Once again, they would turn their backs on him and put the blame on him. Regardless of the fact that he had done _nothing_ wrong.

He loathed how they used him, but he stayed silent. This was his only purpose in life, and he knew that if he wasn't able to focus on rebuilding the Wizarding World with Ron and Hermione, he would probably succumb to the seductive darkness that encased his soul.

He would fight the longing to just die, and instead think of the populous. He had lost control of his life years ago, and there was no point in trying to gain it back now that things have finally calmed down.

He would play to the Wizarding World's tune, and save them from themselves. It was the _only_ thing he could do, and no matter how unhappy he was with it, he'd do it. If it was his way of repenting for the lives he destroyed, Harry refused to say.

Closing his eyes against the onslaught of self loathing, Harry instead focused on the paper work that he had to do.

He didn't want to do it, but he continued on. It took an hour to do all of them, and now a neat little pile sat on the side of his desk; just waiting for his secretary to come and pick them up.

Suddenly, Hermione's laugh filled his ears, and Harry looked up just in time to see his best friends enter his office with bright smiles. Forcing himself to smile kindly, Harry offered them a seat and sat right back down in his chair.

It seemed that he wasn't going to be able to go home just yet… He didn't like that, not one bit.

"So, Harry, have you finished drafting that new law on dark magic?" Hermione asked excitedly. She and a few others had decided that magic was only dark if you had the intent for it to be dark, so they decided that they would make all dark magic legal if people used it in good ways. Harry agreed with her on that front, and began writing the new law.

Nodding, Harry pulled it out of his drawer, and handed it to the brown haired girl. Forcing himself to laugh softly, as she eagerly began reading it.

When she finished, a bright smile overcame her face and she wiggled in her seat before snapping her fingers and asking a house elf for a pitcher of orange juice. Harry looked at her strangely, but didn't comment on had always had a strange obsession with orange juice.

When the House elf came back, she kindly thanked him and poured three glasses full. Pushing it towards Ron and Harry, she lifted her own tumbler and yelled, "TO MAGIC!".

Ron and Harry laughed, and enjoyed her childish antics. She just giggled slightly to herself, and chugged the thing down.

Harry smiled, yet Hermione and Ron never noticed that it was fake and hollow.

* * *

Prompts:

Camp Hogwarts- Fort Building: Write about the trio rebuilding the Magical World after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ultimate Chocolate Card Trading & Dueling Club - (bronze) Gifford Ollerton: Challenge: Write about a very big problem being resolved.

Drabble Club- Destruction

Gringotts Prompt Bank- (story title) The Hollow Doll, (Last sentence) I smiled, (weather prompt) Downpour, (assorted noun) Laugh, (drink) Orange Juice.


	15. Drabble 15: AlbusScorpius

Drabble 15: Albus Severus Potter/Harry Potter (Platonic)

Emotions: Happiness and Fluff

Rating: K

* * *

"Your dad's birthday is tomorrow, Al. Have you planned what you're going to give to him?" Scorpius asked. Al reluctantly nodded, and looked towards his closet. He had been planning his father's present for months, but now he was scared to give it to him. What would he do if his dad didn't like it? He wanted this birthday to be special for his dad because his dad always worked to make his birthday special as well.

His sister, Lily, had already picked out her gift for him, and he was scared that her gift would outshine his. He didn't want his dad to think he didn't care because he did. His dad was the most important person in his life, and Al really did love him.

Scorpius seemed to pick up on his fears because the blond sighed dramatically and walked over to Al, who sat on his bed, only to wrap his arms around the boy's shoulder.

They had been dating for months, and while it did cause a lot of commotion due to their dads infamous rivalry, Harry eventually decided to be the bigger man and called a truce with the Malfoy Lord.

At first it had been tentative, and everyone knew that it could break very easily. However, after a couple of months where the two began hanging out in an effort to show their sons they could be supportive, they had become the best of friends and bonded over Quidditch.

It seems that the two had much in common despite the hatred they once felt towards the other.

To be honest, Al was very grateful for that fact because he didn't want his father to be disapproving of his boyfriend.

He had been afraid when his dad had first found out he was gay, but then stunned when his dad admitted that he wasn't completely straight either and instead bisexual. When Albus had asked whether or not his mother knew, Harry just laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead before telling him that his mother did know and had a pretty good time when they brought another into their bed. It wasn't often they did that, but when they did, they made sure that each of them were one hundred percent okay with it.

Al blushed a bright pink and insisted that there were somethings a child just _didn't_ need to know, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed hearing stories about his parents relationship.

Scorpius had been horrified when Al had told him about that little tidbit of information, and Al truly enjoyed watching the usually calm and composed blond blush a bright pink.

It was adorable.

Walking to the closet when he saw his boyfriend's expectant stare, Al slowly opened it and brought out a bright emerald box that was tied with a black bow.

Bringing it back to Scorpius, Al sat back down and handed it to the boy without any prompting. Scorpius cocked an eyebrow at his boyfriends behavior and then sighed loudly when he saw how horribly the gift was wrapped.

Getting up from his perch, Scorpius walked back to the closet and pulled out the wrapping paper while glaring at Albus, truly enjoying the bright pink the boy turned under the heavy weight of his gaze.

When he _finally_ got to sit on the bed again, Scorpius slowly unraveled the gift. He was completely prepared for anything and everything to be in the box, but when the last of the wrapping was removed, he had to stop the gasp that wanted to force its way out of his throat.

Inside sat a watch. Normally this would _not_ have been something that would have been all that special, but it was the watch's _origins_ that made it so special.

The strap was a cool leather and the actual numbers on the watch were in roman numerals. However, that wasn't it. Al had taken it upon himself to decorate the watch with rubies and emeralds that formed the letter S. Normally that wouldn't seem like much, but Scorpius knew that the watched belonged to Salazar Slytherin and was to be passed down to the heir of the Slytherin line. However, with Voldemort that line had passed away, and now it went to the heir of the second Peverell's heir which just happened to be _Harry._

The 'S' represented Voldemort and Harry's ties in life, and Scorpius knew that _nothing_ could top this.

Harry had been very sympathetic to Voldemort because he _knew_ what it felt like to be despised and hated. He had been _crushed_ when Voldemort finally lay dead on the ground, and it had taken years for him to recover with Ginny.

Now he was fine, but there had been numerous times that the kids and Ginny had walked in on him crying silently because the memories were simply to much to bare.

Looking at his boyfriend, Scorpius smiled slightly when he saw Al's nervous look. It was adorable on the teen.

"Al this will be perfect." Al smile brightly when Scorpius said that because he _knew_ that the blond would never lie to him. The boy was blunt and always spoke his mind. Nodding, he laughed out right when he saw Scorpius scowling at the horrible wrapping Al had done, and reached for the wrapping paper.

' _Yes.'_ Al thought to himself. _'I have the best boyfriend in the world, and he's all mine.'_

Finally it was time. The Weasley's, Malfoy's, and Potters all stood around Harry as he opened each gift. With each one, Harry would smile softly and thank the giver with such gratitude that they all felt that they had done something incredible.

It seemed that even after all this time, Harry wasn't used to getting presents just to get them because of the Dursley's.

Lily had already went and gave Harry a home made picture. She couldn't give much because she was only 7 and didn't get a big allowance, but to Harry a picture was worth a thousand words.

Swooping his little girl into his arms, he pecked her cheeks and head. Smiling softly the whole time, and thanking her while she giggled in his arms.

Finally, it was Al's turn. They 13 year old slowly walked towards his father, and placed the newly wrapped package on the table before him. Watching intensely for any sign of disappointment on his father's face, Albus was not prepared to see the almost disbelieving look in his fathers eyes as he took in the watch. With reverence, Harry picked up the watch and slowly stroked it with his fingers.

He looked at if as if it were about to disappear and when it didn't, he looked at Scorpius with the most radiant look anyone's ever seen. His father stood up abruptly, and pulled Albus in his arms.

Thanking him and sobbing at the same time. It was almost to good to be true! Al stood there dumbstruck for a moment before smiling softly, and wrapping his arms around his father.

From behind Harry, Scorpius looked straight into his boyfriends eyes and smiled at the absolute delight that lingered in emerald orbs.

Really…His boyfriend was simply to adorable sometimes.

* * *

Written for:

Camp Hogwarts: Pottery- Write about the next-gen making something for their parents.


	16. Drabble 16:DracoHarryToadChoir

Drabble 16: Harry Potter/Toad Choir

Emotions: Disbelief and Affection

Rating: T

* * *

"WE HAVE TO WHAT?!" Harry and Draco yelled in disbelief. They had gotten into yet another of their infamous fights, and now Mr. Flitwik was threatening them with expulsion if they didn't join the Toad Choir.

Both of them were against it, and for a moment Harry thought that this was the first time that Malfoy and himself had _ever_ agreed on something.

He _didn't_ sing. He fought, yes. Sing? No. He was not a singer. He dueled and fought evil. He didn't even think he could sing, but here was Flitwik telling him that he had to sing! It was outrageous and he loathed it. The half goblin kept trying to reassure them that they would do splendidly since their voices were so pleasing to the ears, but Harry didn't _want_ his voice to be pleasing to the ears when it came to singing.

He had no desire to sing.

Well…He _used_ to have no desire to sing. When Malfoy and he had reluctantly accepted the deal, he had not expected to find out that he had an amazing voice. At first, he was reluctant to believe it because it was simply impossible that _he_ would have a good voice, but in the end he did.

When he had first stood on that stage he was sure he was going to make a fool of himself, but as they all began to sing he grew more and more confident upon seeing the gob smacked look of his fellow peers.

Smirking silently, he continued to sing and hit a perfect high note before slowly bringing it down again along with others.

Looking at his fellow singers, Harry smiled softly at the almost serene look that was on their faces. Singing was unbelievable peaceful, and he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the sense of companionship he got when they sang together instead of alone.

It was…nice to say the least, and he loved it.

It seemed Malfoy loved it to for the boy was singing along with him. His gray eyes focused on the crowd as he smirked. He enjoyed the fact that he got to flaunt his _gift,_ as he liked to call it.

Harry was feeling to peaceful to even think of correcting the boy, so he merely smiled before focusing back on the song at hand.

It was fun being on stage, and being stared at by his peers. He was having the time of his life, and it showed as his voice was enthusiastic. His fellow singers voices matched his frequency, and all of them seemed to be on the same wavelength.

When the song finally ended their voices slowly began to fade, and when they finished all was silent.

All of the students in the great hall's mouths were opened as they stared wide eyed at the two rivals. It was simply impossible…

How could they fight viciously one day, and sing peacefully together the next?

It was simply outrageous, and more than one person wondered whether or not the two were under the imperius curse.

After a long while of silence, Dumbledore slowly stood and began clapping. People looked at him in shock for a moment before they brains finally processed that yes. The infamous rivals had just sang the most beautiful song they had ever heard, and didn't fight even _once._

Immediately after that revelation, people slowly began clapping until the great hall was filled with noise.

Wolf whistles sounded, and lumos's were cast as the students rejoiced at the newly awaken angelic voices of the duo.

The choir bowed as one, and then slowly made their way out of the Great Hall. Thunderous claps and congratulations following them as they made their way back Fitwik's classroom for a meeting.

Upon arriving, the group broke out of their tranquil states and large grins stretched across their faces as they hugged each other.

It had been a big success!

When they had finally calmed down enough to be almost completely silent, Flitwik slowly made his way towards the front of the group. Smiling broadly and clapping slowly.

"You, my dears, have done an _amazing_ job! You're voices were in perfect sync with each other, and I think Christina Warbeck would be proud of you all." He began. At the mention of the founder of the club being proud of them, exclamations of shock and joy sounded.

That was a huge compliment coming from the goblin, and they were proud of themselves.

"Not only that, but you guys…" He started, pointing at Draco and Harry.

"Have successfully gotten over your rivalry and bonded. I feel that you have learned your lesson, and if you guys would like to quit, I won't stop you." He finished. Draco and Harry turned to look at each other.

Did they want to stay in the Choir, or continue on with their lives? Was it worth it? At once, the two boys seemed to come to a decision because a determined gleam shined in their eyes.

"I will." Draco informed. His tone was arrogant, and implied that he had just done them a huge favor. Everyone rolled their eyes, but smiled fondly at the blond. They had really gotten to know him over the practice sessions. Looking expectantly at Harry, everyone was silent as they waited for his answer in anticipation.

"I will too." He grinned. Everyone laughed in delight, and hugged the two official new members.

Hogwarts had better be careful because they had a new choir ready to wow them.

* * *

Written for:

Camp Hogwarts: Singing- Write about your character being a member of the Toad Choir.


	17. Drabble 17: SiriusHarry

Drabble 17: Sirius/Harry

Emotions: Fluff and Romance

Rating: M

* * *

Sirius smiled mischievously as he slowly walked through Grimmuald Place. His steps were light, and with one well aimed 'Mufliato' he was able to make it so the aged floorboards didn't creak under his weight.

All was silent in the house, and he snickered slightly under his breath. He knew that none of the other order members knew what he got up to at night, and he loved it.

When the moon was out and the sky was out, Sirius always got to prank them silly, and in the morning he got to watch the reactions to them. It always made his mornings better, and today was no different.

However, today was no ordinary prank day.

No, today was the day Sirius pranked his lover. Usually he never did because he knew he wouldn't get any, but tonight the temptation was simply to great.

Finally the door to his lover's bedroom came into sight, and with a sadistic grin, Sirius slowly entered it. Making sure that he did not make a sound, for if he did he knew that the sleeping figure on the bed would wake up instantly.

When he stood right above the sleeping figure, Sirius smiled deviously as he pulled a white tablet out of his pocket. All he had to do was put it in the figures sleeping mouth, and the little pill would do the rest for him.

He chuckled gleefully as the pill was right about the figures mouth. Almost there, almost there.

Then it happened. The figured moved with lightening speed, and emerald eyes glowed in the darkness before Sirius was pinned to the bed. A strong yet petite frame hovered over him, and he could feel the breath of the figure as it ghosted along his jaw.

"Aw, were you planning something, Siri?" His lover, Harry, purred. White teeth gleamed in the darkness, and Sirius gulped upon seeing the shark like grin on his god son's face.

Most wouldn't understand their relationship, so they didn't tell them. According to 'normal' standards, a godfather and a godson weren't supposed to be romantically involved, yet Sirius and Harry didn't care.

After the whole department of Mysteries fiasco, Harry and Sirius simply hadn't been able to let each other out of their sights. They had come to a close call on that night, and if it weren't for Dumbledore's perfect timing, Sirius would be dead.

It hadn't taken long after that for them to confess to each other, and after an emotional moment where the two basked in the knowledge that the other shared their feelings they began to go out on dates like any normal couple.

Now here they were two years later happily together and deeply in love. The only problem at the moment was Voldemort, but they figured he'd have to wait while they developed a strategy. It helped that the snake like man was laying low right now as to not rouse suspicion.

"Nope. I wasn't planning anything." Sirius whispered. Harry smirked before leaning down slightly to nip at his lips.

"Oh really? It seemed like you were about to put something in my mouth. It wouldn't have happened to be…" Harry trailed off as he lifted himself back up and grabbed Sirius's hand, showing off the small little tablet.

"…this?" His voice was teasing, and Sirius just _knew_ that the boy was enjoying himself. Rolling his eyes at the teen, Sirius quickly flipped their positions until _he_ was the one pinning the teen to the bed.

"Ah, ah, ah…Where do you get off on destroying my fun?" He mumbled against the boys jaw as he slowly nuzzled it with his cheek. Moving further down, he reached that delectable neck, and slowly started nipping and biting it.

"You know, Harry…I think you should be _punished_ for interrupting me." He smirked as he heard the teen moan from beneath him. Rocking a little, he delighted in the gasps and mewls of pleasure Harry let out as Sirius rubbed himself against the boy causing a friction so delicious that he took a moment to simply relish in the sensation.

"Hmm…I should be, shouldn't I?" The teen questioned. Sirius decided that he loved it when Harry got that gleam in his eye. His teen was _so_ naughty, and he loved it. Don't let it be said that the teen wasn't a masochist because he was one. The teen _thrived_ for the moments where Sirius would teach that little body discipline, and Sirius wouldn't lie and say he didn't love it either.

His godson was everything he wanted and needed both sexually and emotionally, and that was a fact that led them both to believe that they were made for each other.

Smirking sadistically at the boy, Sirius nodded and proceeded to have his wicked way with the teen. Completely enjoying the moans that slipped out of that cute little mouth, and loving the whimpers as he made Harry's body sing all night.

Only he knew the tune that the boy's body danced to, and he used that knowledge to torture the boy well into the morning.

* * *

Written for:

Camp Hogwarts: Paintball- Write about an ambush.


	18. Drabble 18: LuciusSeverus (Bloody Hell)

Drabble 18: Bloody Hell

Emotions: Affection, Love, and Passion. A little bit of hurt thrown in the mix as well.

Rating: T

* * *

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Severus sneered, looking at the blond in front of him with a look of disdain. Instead of cowering at the rather cruel emotion, Lucius smiled and chuckled softly, earning a glare from the other.

"Well, Severus." He drawled, looking at his old friend with amusement in his gray orbs. "It's simply in my nature to be clever. After all, I _am_ a Malfoy." Here Lucius made a show of showcasing his ring with the Malfoy crest on it, and seemingly missed the glare that was sent his way because of his cheek.

Severus held the glare for a moment before finally relaxing his features, already knowing from experience that the blond was mostly immune to his harsh gaze. Sighing, he sat down across from Lucius and looked deeply into expressive silver orbs.

Normally, Lucius would never be seen with so much emotion, but underneath the cold exterior he showed the public, lye an emotional man that knew all to well that it was dangerous to show emotions to just anybody.

Looking into those eyes, Severus silently thanked Merlin that Lucius trusted him enough to show such vulnerability around him. No matter how much he glared at Lucius, Severus and Lucius both knew that he harbored no real malice in his gaze.

He truthfully adored Lucius's company because without it, Severus knew he would be holed up inside of his potions lab for the rest of his life. Forever doomed to a life filled with loneliness and potion fumes.

He loved what he did for a living, but even he had to admit that it would be a bitter existence.

When he had first met Lucius, he didn't like him at all. The Malfoy heir had seemed to arrogant, and if there was one thing Severus loathed, it was arrogance. It simply reminded him to much of his no good father who always had to assert his dominance over his mother and Severus himself.

However, despite his efforts to not get involved with the Malfoy heir, Lucius had been determined to win his friendship. Even going so far as to save Severus from Potter and his cronies.

It was on that day that Severus had decided to at least give the seemingly pompous Slytherin a chance, and know he was grateful that he had made that decision.

Lucius had single handedly stopped Severus from hiding in the shell he had made for himself, and instead showed him how to live life. It was with Lucius and his father, Abraxus's, help that Severus managed to get his father behind bars. Far, far away from his mother and himself, and finally his mother was allowed to live a happy life.

Now, decades later the two were the best of friends, and if Severus were honest with himself, he'd admit that he wanted to be more than friends with the Malfoy heir.

Over the years, he had gotten to see a side of the Malfoy heir that no one else had gotten to see but family.

It had made him feel special, and despite loathing the weird feelings that he harbored, Severus couldn't deny how much he wanted Lucius to be his and for him to be Lucius's as well.

The desire grew with every passing day, and he prayed that Lucius's _didn't_ notice the feelings of love and affection that hid beneath his onyx eyes as he gazed at the blond.'

However, it seemed that the fates were happy with him for some unknown reason, and wanted to reward him because what happened next surely would _not_ have happened otherwise.

Looking into Severus's eyes, Lucius slowly leaned forward until he had his friend pinned against the wall. Never breaking eye contact with Severus, Lucius whispered into the almost scorching air around them, "Gods, I want to kiss you…".

For a moment, silence reigned upon them as Severus's brain struggled to make sense of what he had just heard.

Lucius wanted to kiss him…? How was that even possible? This had to be some cruel test the fates had devised in order to see whether or not he'd let his feelings come in the way of their relationship. However, looking into Lucius's eyes all he saw was genuine sincerity and desire.

So much desire that it almost crippled him. How could it be possible that Lucius felt that way towards him when there were so many good looking people vying for the Malfoy heirs attention?

It was weird yet for a moment, Severus allowed himself to relish in the smug feeling that incased his soul.

It was _him_ who had made Lucius feel so much desire, and courage that he never knew he had flowed through his body.

Looking heatedly up at Lucius, Severus raised his right hand to cup Lucius's cheek. Leaning in slightly, he whispered in his ears, "If you want to kiss me, then do it." His voice held a soft growl in it, and Lucius immediately took the opportunity to seize his lips in a harsh yet passionate kiss.

It was full of their love, affection, and lust, and Severus felt his knees almost buckle from under him at the intensity of the kiss.

Everything felt right when he was Lucius's arms, and as the blond continued to press kiss after kiss upon his lips, Severus vowed silently that he would _never_ mess this up.

For the first time in a while, Severus felt _alive_.

* * *

Prompts for Drabble 1:

Quidditch Pitch: "You think you're so clever, don't you?"

Fan fiction Dominoes: Lucius/Severus

Drabble Club: (word) Silence


	19. Drabble 19: HermioneCormac

Drabble 19: Hermione/Cormac

Emotions: Affection and amusement

Rating: T

* * *

"Coco, what are you doing?" Hermione asked amused. 'Coco' otherwise known as Cormac McLaggen grumbled from his place underneath thousands of apples. When Hermione had asked him if he wanted to go shopping with her, he had been ecstatic. He loved hanging out with his girl, and she had promised to cook him dinner so that was a plus.

They had begun going out after the Christmas Party Slughorn hosted, and now, three years later, they were in a deeply committed relationship. However, it seemed that 'deeply committed' didn't mean that she couldn't tease him when his clumsiness decided to strike.

Groaning, Cormac pulled himself to his feet, and glared mockingly at his girlfriend.

"How many times must I tell you not to call me Coco before you finally get it?" He mumbled. Hermione raised her adorable little eyebrow, and just smirked before leaning forward and whispering in his ear, "The question is not how many times I'll call you that, but instead when will you accept that I'm going to call you Coco?"

Pulling back, she smiled at the pout on his face, and flicked him on the nose.

"Go get me some spaghetti, so I can make some Spaghetti Bolognese. If you get the right kind, then I'll consider not calling you that for a week." She demanded. Cormac smiled brightly before quickly going to go get the noodles.

When he came back, he shook his head and said, "I can't find it!" Hermione frowned before gesturing him to follow her, and walked to the pasta aisle. Making a triumphant sound in the back of her throat, Hermione pulled out a box of noodles and smirked wickedly at Cormac.

"Found them, Coco!" She chirped, laughing when Cormac groaned in misery. Pulling his arm she led him to the check out with a bright smile on her face.

* * *

Written for:

Speed Drabble- Shop (word), "I can't find it!" (dialogue), Hermione/Cormac (Pairing)

Gringotts Prompt Bank: (Meal) Spaghetti Bolognese


	20. Drabble 20: BellaRegulus (Insanity)

Drabble 20: Bella/Regulus (Insanity's the Gateway to Clarity)

Emotions: Hurt/Comfort, calmness, and love.

Rating: T/M

* * *

Isn't it ironic that the person who was rumored to be insane was the only one who saw the good in him?

Bellatrix Lestrange was a strange girl indeed. She loved to bathe in blood, and she absolutely adored being the one to bring about that bloodshed.

Her sense of humor was wicked, and she would not hesitate to say whatever the hell was on her mind.

She had strength that outmatched most of the other Death Eaters, and was the right hand Death Eater of Voldemort.

She was in all actuality a very dangerous woman, but did that stop Regulus from wanting to be close to her?

No, not at all. It was because of the danger that surrounded her that he wished to get to know the supposedly insane woman.

His brother, Sirius, had never agreed with his family's way of doing things, and his mother and father craved him to be a different person. In all honesty, Regulus didn't want to be the person they wanted him to be.

He wanted to be able to embrace his dark side without being pressured, and he wanted to choose whether or not he'd assist Voldemort with taking over the Wizarding World and purging all of the mud-bloods and half-bloods.

He would do it of course, he wasn't suicidal after all, but he wanted it to be his choice. It was because of his feelings on the matter that after his seventeenth birthday, Regulus broke away from his parent's tight hold and had finally moved out and into a room at the Leaky Cauldron.

Now, two years later, he was a high ranked Death Eater, and free from the pressure that his parent's had bestowed upon him.

However, with this freedom came a lot of responsibilities and consequences. After he had become one of Voldemort's favorites, lower ranked Death Eaters began to become jealous, and the higher ranked ones were still skeptical of him.

He was isolated and alone, and while that usually wouldn't bother him, he couldn't help but think that they were just _waiting_ for him to mess up. He hated being so self-conscious, and overtime his confidence slowly diminished.

He hated it because he was never really an insecure person. When he wanted something, he went for it despite all of the haters and impossibilities that littered his path.

It was within this self depreciating mode that Bellatrix had first noticed him.

At first the woman hadn't been concerned or even aware of his existence in the world, but in her seemingly insane mind she had somehow noticed the harsh and bitter words being spoken behind his back.

They seemed to intrigue her, for the very next day, Bellatrix had visited him. Her gray eyes looked right into his own, and all was silent as she silently analyzed him.

Regulus had to fight back the blush that threatened to overtake his face at seeing his crush looking at him so intensely, but as soon as her mouth opened the blush was wiped from his face and shock set it.

"You're doing just fine. Don't let those stupid dunderheads affect who you are." Her words lacked any sharp edge, and her voice was soft and melodic. There was no deceit there, and Regulus knew that she genuinely meant what she said. Smiling softly, he said nothing. He didn't need to express his thanks because it showed on his face.

Bellatrix smiled a toothy grin and nodded before turning on her heels and walking away. Her black hair cascading fluidly down her back and moving with every stride she took.

Looking back on it, Regulus could remember just how puzzled and thankful he was that she had taken some time out of her day in order to say something so seemingly simple. Even then she had thought the best of him, even when he didn't deserve it in the eyes of the others.

Smiling at the memory, Regulus looked up and sought out the eyes of his beloved.

After Bella, as he liked to call her in his mind, had told him to not worry about what the others thought, he had slowly gained back his confidence and became the man he used to be.

He took no more shit, and often showed the other Death Eaters their place whenever they challenged him. He began to join Bella and the others on massacres and eventually learned to relish in the blood like Bellatrix did. It was then that people began to refer to him as 'mad' and 'insane', yet he didn't care. Instead he adored the names they gave him because it was a sign that they acknowledge that he was able to do things that they would never be able to do. It was simply another manifestation of their jealousy.

It was around that time that Regulus had come to the conclusion that if he truly wished to build a relationship with Bella then he had to work for it. He couldn't just sit there and hope that she one day magically wanted to confess, and they achieved their own happily ever after.

No, he would do something to impress her, and show her that he was fully capable of being in a relationship with her. Making his decision, Regulus went to sleep knowing that the very next day would bring about changes that he hoped would be good.

Upon waking up, Regulus went through his morning routine and knocked on the door to Malfoy Manor.

After Bellatrix had been broken out of Azkaban, Narcissa had all but demanded that she be brought to live with her and her family so they could reconnect. Seeing no other possibilities, Bella agreed and obediently moved in. The process of reconnecting was slow, but Bella had told him during a mission that she was giving her sister and her family a chance.

It was that sentence right there that had made Regulus believe that Bellatrix truly was a good woman on the inside, but was just misjudged by everyone around her. It was one of the things that Regulus had come to love, and he'd be damned if he ever let someone say something negative like that about her in his presence.

Smiling at Narcissa and asking for her sister's whereabouts, Regulus strided towards the library where Bella was said to be. Upon walking in, he immediately smelt her flowery scent and smiled softly to himself. He could do this.

Stopping in front of her, he looked into dark gray eyes and opened his mouth and whispered, "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadows and the soul."

All was silent as Bella absorbed his words, and Regulus forced himself not to flinch or show any nervous gesture under her scrutinizing gaze.

After what felt like nearly an eternity, Bella's gaze softened.

"As do I." Her voice was a mere whisper, yet Regulus heard her loud and clear. With a wide grin, he stepped forward and placed his hands on her hips.

"If that's the case, why don't we make our love a secret that only we know?" He asked. Bella looked inside of his eyes, and her arms wrapped around his neck. Instead of replying verbally to his question, she looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and smashed her lips against his.

Almost instantly, his hands tightened around her waist and Bella swiped her tongue against his lips, demanding entrance. Regulus gladly gave it to her and moaned as she mapped out his mouth.

Her delectable taste of cherries met his taste buds, and Regulus relished in the sense of calmness that overtook his mind.

Within her embrace, their was nothing that needed his attention. Blood didn't need to be spilt, and the pressure of the looming war didn't reach them.

They were in their own little world, and for once everything felt as if it were right. This, he decided, was the only place he needed to be, and he'd fight for Bella with all his might.

For Bella was his salvation, his love, and carried his heart.

* * *

Prompts:

The Quidditch Pitch: Regulus Arcturus Black

Drabble Club: She always thought the best of him, even when he didn't deserve it.

Fanfiction Dominoes: Bellatrix/Regulus

Gringotts Bank: (Character) Regulus Black, (Assorted Verb) Impress, (Words to Describe Taste) Flowery, (Quotes about Love) "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadows and the soul."~ Pablo Neruda (Words to Describe Taste) Delectable.

September Event: (Colour) Beige- I'm using this for one of it's meaning which is calmness. Basically, there will be/was a calm moment in my one-shot.


	21. Drabble 21: Draco Malfoy Vs Purple Goop

Drabble 21: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Vs. The Purple Concoction

Emotions: Hilarity

Rating: T

Warning: As crackish as crack can be. I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this… XD

What happens when you mix Draco Malfoy and potions together? One beautifully monstrous concoction is made.

* * *

Screams rang throughout Hogwarts and students from all years banded together to defeat the terrifying monster that stalked the halls.

"RUN! RUN! RUN!"

Chants came from all directions, and students and teachers alike panicked as they tried to get away from the purple monstrosity.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, bravely stood at the front lines. Firing cutting curse after shaving curse at the being in the hopes of saving the poor students who had been caught by it.

Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune, roared in pure agony and despair as he clutched the hair that steadily fell to the floor in heaps of purple.

The day had started out normal enough. Draco and Harry fought like cats and dogs, and Hermione and Ron struggled with the sexual tension that littered every talk they had.

However, everything went to hell the second Harry Potter walked into potions. You see, Harry can't make potions to save his life, and that day they just so happened to be making Felix Felicis.

If they were making the luck potion, can someone tell Harry why the hell he ended up with a dark purple concoction? Also, how the _hell_ did it end up drenching Draco? Oh, wait…Harry knows the answer.

Neville Longbottom, clumsiest wizard alive, bumped into it and all of the purple goop hit our beautiful Malfoy right in the face.

Draco's horrified screeches rang throughout Hogwarts, and the girls balled their eyes out as their once beautiful Ice Prince grew thick purple hair all over his body.

It became even worse when Goyle, in an attempt at a heroic act, tried to get rid of the hair by casting a _cutting_ charm. Unfortunately for Draco, the boy was as smart as a log, and ended up firing a _burning_ charm. So not only is Draco a monster with thick purple hair, but he's a _burning monster with thick purple hair_. Oh what fantastic luck, indeed!

Wait, that's not all? What else could possibly happen to disrupt the already horrendous day?

Poor Draco's precious blond hair also turned purple, and upon realizing this, the beast let out a mighty roar and began flinging out his hair in an attempt to bring down each and every person in Hogwarts. The distinction between students and teachers were all but lost upon him, and Draco was out for vengeance!

His hairy feet thumped loudly against the floor with loud thumps as he stomped his way down the corridors.

His fellow schoolmates screamed in agony as the purple hair curled around them and enveloped them within it's folds, and screams were soon lost as they were swallowed whole.

Ooh…What a _lucky_ day indeed…

* * *

Prompts:

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Trading & Dueling Club- (Gold) Draco Malfoy- Challenge- Write about Draco Malfoy.

Speed Drabble: (Words) purple, burning, and monster.

September Event: (Location) Dungeons - Isn't this a lovely starting point? XD

Drabble Club- (word) Fantastic


	22. Drabble 22: Harmony (Always Mine)

Drabble 22: Forever and Always Mine

Pairing: Harmony!

Rating: M

Emotions: Love, Affection, and Embarrassment.

AN: Happy Birthday, Hermione! My present to you: Your very own Savior!

* * *

"Really, Hermione? _Him?_ " Lavender asked, gaping at the brunette, and looking at Harry from across the room.

It was Hermione's birthday and in order to celebrate, the Gryffindors had decided to throw a party in their common room.

Punch and other delightful snacks littered tables all around the room, and couples smiled as they danced to the heart pounding music that played in the background.

Hermione had long ago taken a break from dancing when she realized just how _hard_ it was to dance in heels. She didn't know what in the world possessed women to wear those death contraptions. Now she stood in the back simply watching the party, and relishing in the taste of the cold punch as it made it's way down her throat.

Lavender, seeing the birthday girl in a corner by her self, walked towards her and pulled Hermione in a hug, all the while whispering, "Happy Birthday" into Hermione's ear.

At first they talked about mundane stuff, but when Lavender asked about Hermione's love life, she had _not_ been expecting Hermione to blush momentarily and automatically seek out Harry.

Astonished, she couldn't help but ask incredulously, "Really, Hermione? _Him?"_ Hermione blushed brighter in response, and Lavender couldn't keep the wide leer that spread across from her face to herself even if she tried to.

Patting Hermione on the head, she cooed happily. Her little bookworm was growing up so fast!

"So…" She started conversationally, leering so badly that it almost hurt. "When did all this start? Wait…Better yet, when did you get feelings for our _scrumptious-_ " Here she paused and gave Harry a once over, stopping at his arse and swooning dramatically.

"-Savior?" She finished. Hermione blushed, but she couldn't hide the twinkle in her eye even if she tried. Normally, she didn't like to talk about love, but she couldn't help but want to brag about bagging Harry. He was her best friend, and everyone thought that there was no freaking way that Harry Potter would want _her_ of all people.

If only they knew that the boy savior held a deep secret that would simply blow their minds… Oh well. Their loss!

"You remember when Harry participated in the tri-wizard tournament?" Hermione questioned, waiting for Lavender to nod, Hermione continued.

"When I saw him fighting for his life, I saw the passion that lit up his eyes. His fiery personality is what drew me in, and he's _mine_ now." Hermione couldn't help but growl lowly in her throat when she saw the almost star struck look in Lavender's eyes.

Harry was hers and hers alone. She wouldn't allow anyone to take him away from her.

Lavender shook her head a little to get the _juicy_ daydreams out of her head, and smirked at the birthday girl.

"So, you gonna tell me when you _officially_ got together?" Lavender asked. Hermione's eyes lit up impossibly more, and Lavender watched intrigued as Hermione licked her lips before looking back at Lavender with a smirk.

"That, my darling, is for me to know and you _never_ to find out." Smirking deviously once more, Hermione waved before walking towards Harry and whispering lowly in his ear.

Harry immediately stilled and turned towards Hermione with an excited yet lustful twinkle in his eyes, and followed Hermione towards the portrait like a lost puppy.

It was in that moment that a picture of Hermione holding a whip and wearing tight black clothes popped in Lavender's mind.

Gaping at the duo as they walked out, Lavender couldn't help but whisper to herself in shock, "Oh holy fucking shit! Hermione owns that ass!"

* * *

Written for Fanfiction Dominoes. Pairing: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger (Harmony)

24 Hour Drabble Competition: Hermione's Birthday

Gringotts Prompt Bank: (Adjective) Whispering.

September Event: Back to School: (Plot) Falling in love at Hogwarts


	23. Drabble 23: Harmony (Mature Love)

Drabble 23: Harmony

Emotions: Love and Affection

Rating: M

* * *

"Did you know that someone once said, "Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you'. Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you'?" A voice whispered into Hermione's ear while two long arms wrapped around her waist. Shivering because of the puffy breaths against her suddenly scorching skin, Hermione turned around and smirked at her long lasting boyfriend of two years.

You see no one suspected that Harry would ever be into her of all people and vice versa, but they were. Hermione loved Harry with everything she was, and she knew the savior felt the same.

Turning her head back slightly, Hermione whispered, "Oh? And which one are you?" Her voice was perfectly innocent, and she waited with a baited breath for Harry to say the words that she simply loved to hear.

"I need my lady because I love her. Without her, I fear I'd be a mere emotionless shell walking around, trying yet failing to have a happy life although I won't because the other half of my soul isn't with me." He whispered back, smiling slightly when he felt Hermione turn around in his embrace and wrap her arms around his neck.

"Oh? You must be so grateful to have your lady then. What's she like?" Hermione questioned, slowly leaning in until their mouths were inches apart.

"Well for one, she's the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Plus, she's very sweet and was branded the most intelligent witch of our time." Harry responded, breathing slightly heavily as he looked into chocolate brown orbs. He meant everything he said. Hermione was truly the most beautiful girl he had ever met on both the inside and the outside, and he would never willingly give her up.

"What's her name?" Hermione finally asked, leaning in until their mouths barely scraped against the others.

"Hermione Granger." With that, Hermione leaned in and smashed their lips together. It was fiery and passionate, and they both loved the other's rough treatment.

Together they tore off the others clothes, and in the heat of their passion, Harry whispered into Hermione's milky white skin, "Happy Birthday, love."

Their love for each other ran deep, and together they were unstoppable.

* * *

Written for:

24 hour Drabble Competition: Hermione's Birthday

Gringotts Prompt Bank:

"Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.'" - _Erich Fromm_


	24. Drabble 24: DMHP (Why do I Love Thee?)

Title: Why Do I Love Thee?

Rating: M/T

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

AN: Written for Tom Felton's birthday! Happy Birthday, Tom! My gift to you? A fic with no sexual content between Harry and Draco, but instead a non verbal understanding. It's sweet in a way, and I hope you enjoy it (on the off chance you're reading this).

* * *

When asked what his favorite class was, Draco would readily reply that it was Potions. However, it wasn't for the reasons that everyone suspected.

He truly did not enjoy being used as a tool to embarrass the Gryffindors, nor did he actually care for the particularly vicious little remarks the lions would send him in their fits of jealousy.

Instead, the only thing he really cared for was the aroma of the potions as they wafted up his nose. It signified whether or not he was doing it right, and he knew it was very important to know.

Potion making was a delicate procedure, and he absolutely adored being able to enjoy the subtle flames that licked the cauldron as he brewed.

It was because of this that it was honestly a surprise that he came to fall for Harry Potter of all people.

The boy was an absolute menace when it came to potions, and there were times that Draco simply wanted to throttle him, but Draco was somehow able to keep the undeniable urge contained.

However, it was on days such as these that Draco simply felt complete as he gazed upon Harry as the boy tried his absolute best to get the potion they were brewing right. It was adorable, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the narrowing of Harry's eyebrows as he concentrated, undeniably cute.

Sadly, it seemed that even on his birthday, Draco was incapable of not thinking about the savior in that way.

He wanted the boy, and of this he was sure, however he couldn't exactly strut across the room and demand that Harry be his.

For one, the boy would probably blow a gasket for being demanded to do anything, and also their was the bloody war going on that of course further fucked everything up. Glaring silently to the side, Draco made a mental note to castrate Voldemort should he ever get the chance. Yes, it was a slim chance indeed, but could you blame a boy for wanting to get closer to the object of his affections? Especially on his birthday?

No, no you couldn't, and when sneaking a look back at Harry, grey eyes looked straight into green and an electric current seemed to rush in-between them.

It was weird yet at the same time lovely, and looking at Harry, Draco simply knew that the boy felt the same. Lips turning up slightly into a smirk, Draco hummed as he went back to his potion.

It seemed that his birthday wouldn't be so bad after all…

* * *

Prompts:

September Event: (Plot) Favorite class at Hogwarts.

Gringotts Forum: (All Colour Prompts) Grey

September Event: Class of 1991-1998

Draco Malfoy (Slytherin)


	25. Drabble 25: RWHPHG (Frozen Moonlight)

Drabble 25: Ron/Harry/Hermione (Frozen Moonlight)

Emotions: Affection and Angst

Rating: M

AN: The prompt 'crimson' was used for it's meaning. The color crimson represents the color of fresh blood, and can even be associated with love due to it's connection with the color red. The prompt 'maroon' was as well. The color maroon in the color representing sacrifice and bravery.

* * *

 _'Is this how it feels like to die?'_ Ron wondered. Sighing to himself, Ron slowly looked up at the night sky. Stars littered it, and the moon shined brightly. Leaves rustled in the distance, and the faint sound of the water from the Black Lake swooshing with it's tide carried over to him.

Cold enveloped his being, and Ron shivered against the pale white snow he lay buried in. There was no warmth, and his teeth clattered loudly against each other.

He hadn't intended for it to turn out this way, but now that he lay dying in the cold winter air, he couldn't help but think that this may have been for the best.

Hermione, Harry, and himself had been here mere hours before talking about non important things, and they had been having a good time. Laughs went around, and if Ron concentrated hard enough, he could hear both Harry and Hermione's melodic laughs echoing in the distance.

Big smiles stretched across their faces, and they panted slightly as they ran around, enjoying the freedom that came with having defeated Voldemort. It had been such a happy occasion, and they loved the sense of freedom they got as they finally got to relish in the childish task of running around in the snow without any interferences.

Faster and faster snowballs in the air sailed, and Ron could recall the gleam in emerald eyes as a snowball impacted with Hermione's face, enticing a loud 'oomph' from the smartest witch of the century.

His own loud laughing echoed around him, and Ron smiled shakily as he remembered all three of them coming back together and hugging to retain warmth.

It seemed so childish to be enjoying just running outside, but to them it fell as if they had been relieved of a huge burden and finally got to live the childhoods they never had due to the raging war.

It had been so easy to forget, and later on that had been their downfall.

It happened so quickly that even now Ron struggled with accepting the fact that it did in fact happen.

Everything had been silent save for their laughs and taunts, until finally a loud thump echoed in the distance and blue eyes widened as both Harry and Hermione dropped to the floor like rag dolls.

Their breaths ceased, and Ron could feel himself going into shock all over again as his friends bodies lay on the floor before him, lifeless.

For a split second, he recalled the full horror of the situation as it finally hit him that his friends lay on the floor, not _breathing_!

Immediately dropping down, Ron focused on Hermione first and looked for any open wounds yet could find none. Deeming her okay for the moment, he went to Harry and did the same and found no wounds as well. Frowning, Ron cast a spell on Harry and Hermione that would allow him to see what had been done to them, only for his frown to droop even lower when he noticed _nothing_ was wrong.

It had been in that moment, that an angry red spell hit him in the back, and Ron hit the floor kicking and screaming in pain. It was intense, and it felt like he was being burned alive.

Higher and higher his screams went, and Ron didn't know how long the fiery inferno surrounded him. Seemingly millennia's later, the pain finally dulled into a dull ache and his screams finally began to cease. Blood stained the snow around him, and the air reeked of the strong metallic substance.

His breathing labored, Ron whispered into the still air, "Death is nothing, but the next great adventure."

Smiling softly at a star, Ron wondered if maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore was watching him pass onto the after life from above.

* * *

Prompts:

Gringotts Wizarding Prompt Bank Prompts Galore! Forum: (All Colours) Crimson, (Celestial Prompts) Star, (Weather Prompts) Snow

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Club:(Gold) Ronald Weasley. (Challenge) Write about Ronald Weasley.

Gringotts Prompt Bank: (Title) Frozen Moonlight, (Celestial Prompt) Star

September Event: 30. (color) Maroon.


	26. Drabble 26: Zacharias SmithHarry Potter

Drabble 26: Zacharias/Harry

Emotions: Love and Loathing.

Rating: M

* * *

Sometimes the lines between love and hate can become blurred. People will begin to think that they are helplessly in love with those they loath with their very being, and sometimes they'll think that they harbor hatred for the person they love so deeply that it hurts.

It'll hurt so much on the inside, but they'd never fully understand what exactly was going on until finally they lay in the embrace of Death.

Then and only then would they feel an overwhelming sorrow that'd take over their soul simply because they were blind to reality.

Zacharias unfortunately was one of the affected. He harbored a deep love for the savior, but soon enough the lines between love and hate completely blurred until finally he was left thinking that he held a powerful hatred towards the other.

It was because of this hatred that Zacharias betrayed Dumbledore's Army, and was forced to hide the deep pain that radiated through his entire soul as he looked into pain filled emerald orbs.

Closing his eyes, Zacharias buried the pain deep within him, and walked with his head held high on the path he mistakenly chose in life.

While he wouldn't have the love he desired, he would leave with his pride intact.

It was on this day that Zacharias finally realized that maybe, just maybe, love and pain are one and the same. That there was absolutely no way to find out where one began and the other ended because one simply couldn't love without hating someone as well.

* * *

Prompts:

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Trading and Dueling Club: (Bronze) Zacharias Smith- Challenge: Write about Zacharias Smith.

Gringotts Mid Prompt Bank: (Character) Zacharias Smith

Gringotts Prompt Galore!: (All Colour Prompts) Red. Red traditionally symbolizes hate, passion, lust, and volatile situations. In here I use it for hate and passion.

Students of 1991: Zacharias Smith.


	27. Drabble 27: DracoDraco (No Pairing)

Pairing: Draco/Draco

Emotions: Excitement and Nonchalance (Oh the pains of being a Malfoy…)

Rating: T

* * *

In the silence of Malfoy Minor, a young boy no older than eleven stood in his room. Today was the day! Finally, he'd get his letter, and go to Hogwarts to learn magic. He'd be the big boy his father always wanted and show the world that he was somebody.

Finally… It was his time to shine.

Smiling to himself, Draco ran towards the kitchen where his mom was no doubt waiting for him with breakfast on the table.

His blond hair whipped behind him as he ran through the corridors, and upon arriving just outside the dining room, Draco finally stopped. Slowly smoothing out his hair and robes, Draco breathed in a deep breath, already knowing that he needed to look good and befitting for a boy, or in his opinion, man, of his station.

Placing a nonchalant expression on his face, Draco slowly entered and smiled warmly at his mother before putting his cool expression back in place.

His mother smiled warmly back, and whispered with her beautiful and melodic voice, "You know you can smile right, Dragon?" Draco nodded in response and said, "I'm going to school, Mom, and we both know I'm going to be in Slytherin." Here he broke off and looked at his mother with childlike knowledgeable eyes. "I can't afford to show emotions." He finished. Narcissa simply smiled, amused, and pointed towards the window. "It should be here soon, Dragon," She added, already knowing that despite the supposed nonchalance her son adopted, the eleven year old was anxious and his eyes continually traveled to the window in pure anticipation.

Draco nodded, and Narcissa smiled knowingly once more before striding to the table and sitting down gracefully. Ducking his head, Draco admonished himself silently as he couldn't keep the large smile that broke out on his face at seeing his mothers radiant smile. Walking towards the chair to join his mother, Draco sat down as gracefully as he could, and cheered silently in triumph when he didn't mess up.

After eating and making small talk with his mother for five minutes, Lucius finally walked in and with him, brought Draco's prized letter.

Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise, and when he went to ask his father _why_ exactly he had the prestigious letter in his hands, Lucius sharply retorted with, "You really thought that I would let an owl bring a important letter that it could easily loose?" Draco blushed slightly, but didn't let that deter him as he rushed to pluck the letter from his fathers hands. The anticipation was killing him! Ever so slowly, Draco ripped the letter open and when he saw the beautiful cursive writing, giggled silently. Showing it to his mother and father, Draco beamed in pride.

He simply couldn't wait until September 1st.

* * *

Prompts:

Gringotts Forum: (All Colour Prompts) Blonde, (Family & Friends Prompts) Mother, (Family & Friends) Father, (Descriptor) Giggled, (Descriptor) Whispered, (Descriptor) Beautiful, (Descriptor) Rushed

September Event: 1. Receiving Hogwarts Letter

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards: (Silver) Cliodna. Challenge. Write about a mother figure.


	28. Drabble 28: BlaiseBlaise (No Pairing)

Drabble 28

Pairing: Blaise/Blaise (No Real Pairing)

Emotions: Calm and Determination

* * *

Blaise walked calmly towards the stool when it was his turn, and gazed ahead with a blank look. His eyes told nothing of what he was thinking, and as the tattered Sorting Hat was slowly lowered onto his head, he squared his shoulders and lifted his head slightly.

He would not tolerate being seen as one of the children that stood around him. He was mature, and he often loathed being treated or seen as anything besides mature and adult like.

When the Sorting Hat finally touched his head, Blaise closed his eyes briefly and waited for the voice that he knew belonged to the Sorting Hat to filter through his head.

It was in times like these that he loved the fact that he was a pureblood. Otherwise, he wouldn't have known what was going to happen.

"Hmmm…it's nice to meet you Mr. Zabini! It seems you're a quiet one. I love kids like you! You make my job _so_ much easier." The Sorting Hat said, his deep voice rumbling through Blaise's head with amusement.

"Quiet yet cunning…You have ambition, but we can't forget that you like the pursuit of knowledge. You fight for what you believe in, but you prefer to do it in the shadows so Gryffindors totally out. You're loyal, but only to those you deem worthy so definitely not Hufflepuff material…" The Sorting Hat contemplated. Blaise agreed silently with the hat's assessment. It seemed it truly knew what it was doing.

A booming laugh pierced through Blaise's head, and it was only years of practicing self control that prevented Blaise from wincing.

"I do indeed, Mr. Zabini. Now, you have two options; you can either go to Ravenclaw or Slytherin, however since you'd have more chance to follow through with your goals in _this_ house, I choose… SLYTHERIN!" The loud call echoed throughout the Great Hall, and the Sorting Hat was slowly removed. Standing up, indigo eyes connected with green, and Blaise smirked as he strode towards his new houses table.

It seemed that things were going to be interesting.

* * *

Prompts:

September Event: 4. The Sorting

Gringotts: (All Colours) Indigo, (All Colours) Green, (Descriptor) Called


	29. Drabble 29:HGHG (Exhaustion)(No Pairing)

Drabble 29: HG/HG Exhaustion

Pairing: None

Emotions: Exhaustion and Angst

* * *

Question after question she answered, hoping that the teachers would understand that she knew the answer. Test after test she aced, successfully getting straight O's and outshining her classmates.

Countless nights she spent pouring over notes and homework, praying that somebody would notice just how _hard_ she worked in order to be seen as smart. Sometimes, she broke down in the silence of the night because she simply couldn't take it.

She had to be smart, she had to show everyone that she could _be_ something. She had to…, but why was it so hard?

Why did becoming the best at something take so much out of her? Why did it make her feel that no matter what she did, she would _never_ succeed?

Why…? Just why couldn't she succeed?

* * *

AN: This is possibly the shortest think I have _ever_ written. Well... Happy reading!

Prompts:

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card: (Gold) Hermione Granger. Challenge. Write about Hermione Granger.

September Event: 16. (Emotion) Exhausted

Gringotts: (Family and Friends) Classmates


	30. Drabble 30: HarryHarry (No Pairing)

Drabble 30: Harry/Harry (No Pairing)

Emotions: Angst and Sadness

Rating: M

Warnings: Self harm.

Key:

 _Italics = thoughts_

Regular = Story

* * *

 _This is my last time._

Everyday for the past year, Harry whispered that to himself, hoping and praying that one day it wouldn't be just a weak promise.

He wanted to stop, he really did, but he couldn't help it. He craved the relief that came with every small incision. He desired to hear the blood rushing through his veins as he crossed back and forth between unconsciousness and consciousness. He adored the utter _freedom_ that he would be blessed with for every single second that his wrists bled.

He knew that what he was doing was down right horrible, but he couldn't _help it._

Everyday he felt like shit, and the feeling of hopelessness was eating him alive! It hurt. It freaking _hurt_ to think so badly about himself, but he couldn't _stop._ He had no control over his thought patterns, and the thoughts came so naturally to him that he barely noticed when he would get up and get his blade.

All he would notice was the euphoric feeling of _release_ , and he'd be almost drunk from the pleasure it gave him. He would feel the pain, almost disturbingly so, but he didn't care. He welcomed it. Welcomed the tether it seemed to tie around him as it forcefully _bound_ him to reality.

Without it, he knew he'd drown in his own sorrow, and be left to feast upon sorrowful memories that would plague him even when he was awake. It'd be a never-ending torture that'd eat away at his awareness until he was sobbing his heart out, trying and pleading that maybe, just maybe, the feelings of utter _sorrow_ would leave him.

In every waking moment, he wondered, why, just why, was he alive. Did he have a purpose, or was he meant to live among his peers as a mere ghost of himself? A person with little to no spirit, and an existence so freaking lonely that it nearly drove him insane?

He wanted to be free, to be away from the all consuming darkness that stuck to him every minute of every single day.

 _One day…_ he promised. _One day I'll be free._ If only that day would come sooner.

* * *

Prompts:

Alchemy Assignment- Write a fic in which your character does something that can potentially harm themselves or others.

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card- (Gold) Harry Potter (5 knut bonus) Challenge. Write about Harry Potter.

Gringotts Prompt Bank: (Descriptor) Sorrowful - Changed to Sorrow

The Quidditch Pitch - (word) Insanity


	31. Drabble 31: SeverusRemus

Drabble 31: Severus Snape/Remus Lupin

Emotions: Pain and affection.

Rating: T

* * *

 _Crunch._

 _Crunch._

 _Crack._

 _Crunch._

 _Crunch._

 _Crack._

 _Pain._

 _Pain._

 _Pain._

 _Painpainpainpainpainpainpainpain._

Bones broke and formed again, ripping vicious snarls and grunts from Remus's throat as he tried to hold back the screams that so desperately wanted to be released. The pain was unimaginable and it clawed at his insides, demanding to be felt.

His back took on a slightly blue hue as the skin stretched to accommodate the now large and awkward bones that protruded from his back. It looked horrible but nothing could be done about it.

Instead, Remus simply tightened his fists and focused on _not_ screaming. He sat in the Shrieking Shack, thankfully alone and away from prying eyes. However, just because he was alone didn't mean that he could scream. He knew that should he even attempt to lessen his tight control on his voice, he would let out a mighty scream and roar that would reach the peacefully sleeping children of Hogwarts.

It was for that reason and that reason alone that Remus forced himself to quell the cries that demanded to be let out, regardless of how much it freaking _hurt._

Looking up slightly, Remus looked outside of the small window to his left and saw that the moon had risen to it's full height. Almost immediately, he could feel the pain reach it's crescendo until finally it left him and the beast took over.

Roaring savagely, he broke the meager binds that he, as a human, had wrapped around himself in an effort to stop himself from completely loosing control.

It was truly a pity that he didn't know just how _strong_ he really was. He broke through them easily and stalked to the door of the shrieking shack, already knowing that he was needed elsewhere.

Padding out on his haunches, he made his way to the forest and released a howl, knowing that the one it was intended for would know what it meant. Immediately, a light green flare sailed into the air, and Moony, his inner beast, hastened his pace, eager to get to what he considered to be his pack.

A few moments later, he reached a small clearing and sniffed, hoping that the scent he craved so desperately was there.

Mouth curling into a toothy grin, Moony padded softly towards the figure sprawled out on the ground and laid his furry head on the person's chest. Almost immediately, a pale hand was placed behind his ear and scratched lightly, gaining a pleased purr from the wolf as it leaned into the soothing touch.

Moony didn't know how long they stayed there sitting in the tranquility that the clearing provided but soon enough the sun rose and with it, Moony transformed back to Remus.

Blushing a delicate shade of pink, Remus glanced at the figure he had used as a pillow and simply relished in the feeling of completeness that encased his soul.

Never before had he felt this way about somebody, and it almost astonished him just how much he had come to need the other. Whenever his beast was out, the other was seemingly able to calm it down and actually reduce it to pleased whimpers. It was a whole new experience, and Remus honestly wished that it could always be like this.

Looking into Onyx eyes, Remus smiled. Right now he didn't care about what his friends would say if they found out that he was secretly meeting with Severus every full moon. All he cared about was laying in their secret clearing together and relishing in the peace that surrounded them.

That was all that mattered at that very moment, and Remus loved it.

* * *

Prompts:

History of Magic Assignment 7. Write about an adolescent Remus going through his change as a werewolf and have Severus Snape accompany him.

Gringotts Prompt Galore: (All Colours) Onyx, (Celestial Prompts) Moon, (All Colours) Light Green, (All Colours) Blue, (Descriptor) Demanded, (Descriptor) Glanced at, (Descriptor) Cried.


	32. Drabble 32: HermioneCormac

Drabble 32: Hermione/Cormac

Emotions: Affection and Amusement

Rating: T

* * *

Hermione sighed in relief.

She had wanted to be alone with Cormac for so long, yet they always seemed to get interrupted whenever she was about to make her move. She loved him, but she couldn't help but admit that sometimes he was a bloody idiot.

She had once come so, so close to succeeding in her plans, only to be stopped at the very last moment when Cormac realized that he had left his book in potions.

Yes, thee Hermione Granger had been beaten by a book. It was the first time that she could honestly say that she _loathed_ a book. Frowning slightly at the memory, Hermione looked up only to feel her smile be wiped away.

Before her, stood Cormac in all his adorable glory and Hermione practically squealed in delight.

This was her chance! Finally, she was able to get him alone. Smiling, she shook her head when his eyebrow rose in questioning.

Stepping closer to him, she casually brushed her hand along his robe, hoping and praying that all the time she spent wasting her brain cells reading all those teen books had _not_ gone to waste. Smiling in what she hoped was a seductive way, she gently pushed her hair back using one hand and spoke gently, _carefully_.

"Are you going to the match?" She asked, tone perfectly pitched to sound feminine but not _too_ feminine. Hoping that she didn't look like a fool, she made sure to carefully pronounce her words so he'd have no choice but to notice the slight clear coating of lip gloss that painted her lips.

She watched him gulp, and smirked wickedly on the inside.

Maybe those books were right...

Deciding to amp up her game, she cocked her hip slightly to the side and hoped his eyes would be drawn to her midsection. Cormac coughed, once then twice, and abruptly stood straight. His eyes flashed once but with what, Hermione didn't know.

"U-uhm, I gotta go. I'll see you later, Hermione." He said shakily before making a hasty retreat. Hermione slumped from her place near the books and closed her eyes.

She had been so sure that she was affecting him! Pouting slightly, she walked out of the library, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she had done something wrong.

* * *

When Hermione saw Cormac next, the boy was heading towards the Great Hall for dinner. Rushing towards him, Hermione grabbed his arm lightly. Looking back curiously, Cormac stopped in his tracks and smiled warmly at the brunette.

"Hermione," he said in that deep voice of his. Hermione shivered and smiled back at him.

"I was just-" She began to say, but stopped short when she saw the almost devious look in his eyes as he slowly stalked forward, pulling her short and petite frame against his. Leaning next to her ear, he whispered seductively, "What do you need?"

Hermione had to stop herself from getting a nose bleed right then and there and shifted slightly, hoping he didn't notice the hot splash of pink that now decorated her pale cheeks.

"U-uhm...", she stuttered, completely out of her element. Cormac just smirked before bringing her closer.

"Do you know that you've been killing me for the last four months?" he asked, lips pressing against her ear, and his hands curling around her waist. Hermione blushed furiously, and shook her head.

The books had not prepared her for this!

Cormac sighed as if put upon and tutted in a scolding manner.

"Those beautiful pouting lips, and your elegance when you hold a book... Seriously, you thought I _wouldn't_ notice? I've had so many problems keeping myself in check, but do you know what I love even though it torments me?" He whispered, breath hot against her ear.

"I love how your body moulds against mine, so delicate, so fragile, and something that will be _mine_." He growled. Hermione pulled her head back, and looked straight into green eyes. What she found astounded her, and she found herself looking blankly into eyes filled with love and raw _desire._

Laughing almost hysterically, Hermione trembled slightly in his hold as her thoughts became completely inappropriate. Oh how she wanted to nip those lips until they were puffy and red. Just as she was about to speak, the desire abruptly left his eyes and Cormac pulled himself away from her, a look of horror etched onto his features.

"I'm so sorry!" He hastened to say, stumbling backwards in shock, and about to run away in mortification. But, Hermione wasn't having it. Barreling forward, she grabbed his arm, and exclaimed, "Are you stupid?! I want you to kiss me! You can't just leave me hanging like that after you are all smooth and stuff!"

Cormac simply stared at her in shock for a moment before what she said _finally_ registered in his mind. Turning around, he rose his hand shakily and reached up to hold her cheek gently.

"Really?" He asked, tone hesitant as he gazed at her with something akin to fear in his eyes. Hermione nodded slowly and whispered into the suddenly scorching air around her, "Yes...I do." His eyes widened, and suddenly a bright smile was being aimed at her as he bowed slightly.

"Your wish is my command, princess." He whispered, leaning down to kiss her on her beautiful rosy lips. Hermione kissed back just as fiercly and it was wonderful. Sparks seemed to erupt between them, and the places he touched burned. It was amazing, and Hermione promised herself that she'd cherish this moment forever.

Pulling back slightly, Hermione looked into green eyes and smiled.

"I love you, Cormac." She whispered, happy that she finally had the chance to say what's been on her mind ever since he went with her to the Yule ball.

Cormac smiled and whispered a heartfelt, "I love you, too", before swooping in and laying a chaste kiss on her lips.

Love, an emotion so pure and so marvelous, has finally been found.

* * *

Prompts:

 _ **Gringotts Prompt Bank:**_

Descriptors:

Exclaimed, stared at, cherish, wonderful, petite, marvelous, love, and amazing.

 _ **Speed Drabble:**_

(Pairing)Hermione/Cormac, (word) perfect, (dialogue) "Are you stupid? I want you to kiss me!"


	33. Drabble 33: DeathHarry

Drabble 33: Death/Harry

Emotions: Hurt Comfort, Amusement

Rating: T

* * *

The screams that echoed around him were like a symphony. Higher and higher in pitch they went and crimson red dyed the floor beneath them.

Death watched, amused, as his companion swirled around in utter glee. The magical world was ending and with every swish of his little creatures wand, more and more death and destruction was caused.

There was no sympathy in his partners kills as green eyes lit up with sadistic pleasure. He knew that the boy loved the despair that he could bring upon families as he tore them apart, and he knew that he absolutely adored the way the blood covered his robes.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived, had been corrupted. Darkness now surrounded his soul, and he relished in the blood shed around him.

It was too late to be sad, too late to be angry, and definitely to late to be remorseful. Already the little minx's soul had fallen into a dark pit of anger, and Death knew that there was no way for it to be cleansed. The light had pushed the boy to far, and now Harry was broken. He had no purpose in the world other than to assist and be with Death, and the being shrouded in black couldn't help but like that.

Being Death was lonely. Everyone hated the being because they feared him. Death was the entity that tore families apart and had no mercy for those who had experienced pain and despair in their short lifespan.

Death was inevitable, and the humans hated it. They feared the very notion of there being an entity that could completely and utterly destroy them, and he already knew that with that fear came spite. He knew that no one besides this little creature that stood by his side, could ever truly understand him. He used to think that he was alone in this world, but looking at the boy with stunning emerald eyes, Death knew that his days of loneliness were now over.

As green and black connected, Death knew that he too, would be the only one ever able to understand the boy.

They needed each other, and Death decided then and there that he would protect what he now deemed as his.

* * *

Prompts:

Gringotts Prompt Galore: Single Word Descriptor: Stunning, Feeling: Lonely, Feeling: Fearful, Feeling: Gleeful, All Colours: Red, Friend Vocab: Companion, Friend Vocab: Partner.

Assignment 8- Charms

Write about Death in his POV.


	34. Drabble 34: Severus (No Pairing)

Drabble 34: Severus Snape (No Pairing)

Emotions: Loyalty and Pity

Rating: T

* * *

"I assure you, my Lord. I'm not lying. I have truly seen the error in my ways, and will never trust the old goat again," Severus swore, voice hardened with resolve and eyes sparkling with malice directed at Dumbledore.

Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Lord of the century, sat before him in a grand throne that was fit for someone of his station. A pale and gaunt hand waved throughout the air as his lord hissed in disbelief, "Do you really expect me to believe you, Severus? How do I know that this isn't a mere hoax and that you will betray me once I let you back into my fold?"

Severus flinched slightly, but didn't let the coldly spoken words deter him as he said confidently, "I won't betray you, my Lord. You are the only person I will serve from this day onwards. I'll even make an oath if you so wish it." The surrounding Death Eaters gasped, for they knew all to well the importance of a magical oath. If one were to break it, they'd loose their magic and since this was the Dark Lord they were dealing with, Severus would most likely be tortured and then killed in the most painful of ways. Wincing slightly, they all felt a brief pang of pity for the potions master.

Voldemort, it seemed, had no such pity for the man because he simply cocked his head to the side and frowned.  
"You are wise, Severus. I have no doubt that even if I bound your will with an oath, you'd just find a way to get out of it. No, I think I have a better solution to confirm your loyalty for me," the Dark Lord said, his voice slightly ominous and haunting as it echoed throughout the room.

"Yes…" He confirmed, swishing the wand that he held lazily in his other hand. "This will do nicely."

With that said, Voldemort conjured a golden chalice and placed it on the ground before him.

"Well?" he asked when Severus didn't move. "Come up here." Startled, Severus slowly made his way towards his master and stopped right before his throne.

"Now, cut your finger and pour enough blood to completely cover the bottom." the Dark Lord ordered. Severus nodded sharply and did as told. Upon finishing, Severus nodded and stepped back.

With an almost agonizing slowness, the Dark Lord rose and picked up the chalice. Stretching his hand, he waited impatiently for Pettigrew to hand him something wrapped inside of a dark purple blanket and then unwrapped it, dropping the contents inside of the chalice with a strange gentleness that no one would ever guess came from the Dark Lord.

Almost immediately, the concoction began sizzling and everyone watched in awe as it turned dark blue.

"Put your hand lightly on the top of the chalice, and say, " _I, Severus Snape, hoc promitto me semper pro virili mea serviemus. Domino meo ingenio. Numquam mentiri meum, neque unquam finis deesse confodiendi eum. Vitae semper inesse. Si vis, faciam voluntatem suam ullo modo peribit._ " All the Death Eaters looked at the Dark Lord in confusion, and he sighed before saying in an exasperated voice, "It means, you dunderheads, " _I, Severus Snape, hereby promise that I will forever serve my Lord to the best of my abilities. I will never lie to my Lord, nor will I ever aim to kill him. My life forever belongs to him. Should he wish it, I shall perish by any method of his choice._ "

Severus somehow managed to keep his cool face on, however on the inside he was a wreck.

He knew that the pledge and the blood combined would be even more meaningful than a regular Blood oath, and that should Voldemort add his blood, he'd never be completely free. Salazar Slytherin had long ago figured out a way to make any blood oaths that he or his descendants put into place were harsher and stronger.

Severus knew with absolute certainty, that if he said no to the Dark Lord, he'd be killed on the spot. This was his only option, yet he couldn't deny that he didn't necessarily hate it. He would hate being chained down, yes, but he wouldn't hate the fact that he made a home in the dark.

Nodding his head in assent, he watched as the Dark Lord cut himself cleanly and poured his blood in the chalice. Upon finishing, the wound immediately healed itself, and Voldemort nodded to signal Severus to begin.

Immediately the smooth words filled the air, and the chalice glowed a bright orange.

As the light slowly dimmed down, Severus could feel what seemed like a chain wrapping around his soul, and briefly allowed himself to mourn his old freedom before embracing the feeling of being chained.

He could do this. He'd survive in the end, and if he had to please Voldemort to do it, then he'd do it without complaint.

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, the Dark Lord smirked. If only Severus knew that his little test wasn't over with.

Oh, how fun it was to mess with people.

* * *

Prompts:

Ancient Runes Assignment 9- Write about a test, examination, or an interview. Prompts: Trait: Wise, and Color: Dark Blue.

Gringotts Prompt Galore: (A-Z AU List) Change of Heart AU!, (Descriptor: Personality Traits) Wise, (Descriptors: Words Instead of Said) Hissed, and ordered.


	35. Drabble 35:HarryHarry (Real Pairing!)

Drabble 35: Me, Myself, and I (Harry/Harry)

Emotions: Exhaustion, Narcissisim

Rating: T

 ** _AN: Sometime this week, I'll be going back and fixing any errors I come across. I don't check these as much as I do my other fics, so it's a big possibility that there are some errors in past chapters._**

* * *

Harry was sick and tired of the Wizarding World's conflicting emotions. Either they loved him or they didn't. He didn't have the time nor energy to hear them going on and on about how he was the greatest gift to the world after Merlin, or how he was a vile boy who would later present them on a platter to Voldemort.

He was done! He couldn't take it anymore. It had gotten to the point that he couldn't even go out into the street and find a nice bloke to become intimate with. Merlin, was he sexually frustrated! He had never had a partner, not even his own hand, and he hated it.

He had wanted to save himself for the one person in the world who might be meant for him, but looking at the way things where going now, he sincerely doubted that he would find 'the one' in his lifetime.

Scowing to himself, Harry strolled towards the full size mirror he had put in his apartment mere moments before. At first he had been shy. After all, he _had_ just purchased a mirror to gaze at himself mindlessly and he was a boy. Wasn't it not masculine to buy mirrors? Shaking his head at the thought, Harry gazed upon his form.

He was lithe and muscular from years of having defense techniques crammed into his head by Moody. All black clothing highlighted pale skin, and electric green eyes stared into their own depths. Silky yet messy raven hair lay in a dissray upon his head, yet somehow managed to seem artfully mused.

Harry didn't want to appear vain or anything, but he thought he actually looked quite fetching. He wasn't too masculine, nor too feminine. More in-between then anything.

Frowning to himself, Harry cupped his cheek. Fine, have it their way. If no one wanted to see the boy beneath the mask, then Harry wouldn't bother trying to make them.

He had been by himself for seventeen years, he could do it for more if he had to. Smiling charmingly at his reflection, Harry nodded to solidify his resolve.

Who needed blokes when they could be their own partner?

* * *

 _ **AN: *Looks timidly to the ground* Don't even ask why. :) I sincerely don't even know how this came about. One minute I was reading a friends fic for inspiration about the concept of Harry/Harry, and in the next I was writing this.**_

 ** _If anyone's reading this on the off chance, don't be afraid to make request for any pairings or things you'd like to see done. Any Umbridge/Lockhart fans? If so, let's see what this little mind can create! Be afraid guys, very afraid..._**

 ** _Love you all!_**

 ** _~Fire_**

 _ **Written for:**_

 _ **Fanfiction Dominoes - Table 10 - Harry/Harry**_


	36. Drabble 36: VoldemortHarry (AU!)

Drabble 36: Voldemort/Harry (AU!)

Emotions: Love

Rating: M

* * *

No one understood how they could possibly enjoy the downright evil words they spat to each other.

Each word, filled with so much malice that it would raise eyebrows, always had an undercurrent of love and tenderness that no one seemed to be able to pick up on.

That, Harry decided, was simply too bad. Voldemort and himself were once enemies, this he could agree with, but for them to say that it was simply impossible for them to become lovers always through him off.

Didn't people say opposites attract? Their words, filled with darkness, bitterness, and anger, usually always held some kind of love to them. Wasn't that all that mattered? It was childish to think that you'd love everything about a person. Everyone had flaws. While most would try to not speak of them, Tom and Harry, however, made sure the other knew of these flaws.

Sure, it might sound cruel, but that's how they showed the other they loved them. To them, it showed that even with all the flaws they both have, they still love each other enough to stand by them.

They didn't care if so many people called it wrong and a somewhat abusive relationship. To them, this was paradise and if this was one of the things that people considered a sin, then they'd gladly allow themselves to take flight on dark and mysterious wings as messengers of the devil.

To them, their love was perfectly fine, and they'd be damned if they let someone change that because they thought it was a bad relationship.

Their words and actions, while appearing dark, were in all actuality just a manifestation of their love, and if people had a problem with that, they could screw themselves.

Together, they felt the happiest. The other was able to understand the message behind the vile and sometimes down right despicable words and that was enough.

To know that someone in the world understood them so fully and was able to look beyond the mask they projected to others made them both feel warm inside.

Paradise, that's what this was, and together they would protect it.

Their love was stunning in it's own way and they'd gladly let the purple sparks trail behind them as they flew across the night sky together.

* * *

Written For:

Popular Pairings Vs. Regular Pairings; Chosen Pairing: Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter (AU), TV Episode Title: Dark Wings and Dark Words - Game of Thrones

Song- Forged by Fire by Hank Williams Jr.


	37. Drabble 37: HermioneHarry

Drabble 37: Hermione/Harry

Emotions: Betrayal

Rating: T

* * *

"H-Harry!" Hermione gasped, trying so hard to tell herself that this was _not_ happening. Unfortunately for the bushy haired girl, it _was_ happening, and her boyfriend of two years was in the process of storming out of their shared apartment because he caught her locked in a passionate embrace with their best friend Ron.

Sniffling slightly as she felt tears of shame burn behind her eyes, Hermione ran in desperation towards Harry. She couldn't let this be the end of their story. She loved him; loved him even more than she loved her beloved parents and the thought of being without him physically pained her.

Running faster, Hermione tried her very best to ignore the fire that ignited in her chest as she gasped for breath.

Exertion wouldn't stop her from fixing this. Harry, her beloved, Harry, had to hear her out. They couldn't just let all the love and passion that brewed between them disperse into nothingness.

At the very thought of it, she trembled, chocolate eyes growing wide and dark with emotions as she thought about Harry leaving her.

Finally catching up to the emerald eyed teen, Hermione reached out and grasped his arm in a strong grip and pulled; hoping and praying that this would be enough to stop the teen. It wasn't but it seemed Harry would do her the honor of explaining, for he stopped and turned around.

Gazing into heartbroken and empty crimson orbs, Hermione sucked in a breath in fright and gently raised a hand to cup his pale cheek.

Immediately, Harry recoiled and her knees almost buckled at the implications. Hermione was stubborn though.

Looking into his eyes, she got ready to explain everything but suddenly a slap resounded and her gaze was forced to the side.

Silence, seemingly loud in the abandoned hallway, rang out and nothing was said as Harry dropped his raised hand and wiped it with a sneer on his clothes.

Seconds went by before finally, _finally_ , the emerald eyed teen turned his broken gaze to Hermione's eyes.

"You said we had forever," he started, voice startlingly loud in the secluded corridor.

"You said that no matter how hard things got, we would always be there for one another. Is this," he continued, pointing towards the door to their apartment, "what you meant when you said that?"

Having the dignity to feel ashamed, Hermione lowered her gaze and cupped her wounded cheek as she let guilt wash over her.

When she had seen Ron looking back and forth at her lips and the door, she knew exactly what he had wanted. However, that didn't stop her. Instead, she welcomed his glances and even fiercely kissed back when he pressed her against the wall and attacked her lips.

She knew all too well what those green eyes looked like as they gazed at the scene, but at the moment she hadn't cared. All that had been on her mind was the amazing taste of chocolate that lingered on Ron's cunning tongue.

But, when she had come back to her senses, horror and a dread made itself known in her stomach as she pushed the red head back and looked at Harry's still and trembling form before he rushed out.

About to answer, Hermione found that Harry wasn't even going to give her the option when he finished, "It wasn't was it? You lied to me about forever, and you know what the bad thing is? I wish I could stop caring. I wish that whatever happened between you and I never happened, and you want to know why? It's because it hurts. I don't know why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every other part of my body is broken too. Your apologies won't fix this either. It's just too late for that. We're over." Spinning around, Harry speed walked out of the apartment and never once looked back to see the stricken gaze that colored Hermione's face. She desired to scream out, "Are you kidding me?!", yet she knew she couldn't. This was really happening.

She hadn't meant for it to be this way. Earlier when none of this had happened, she had been happily dancing to songs on the radio as she thought about what would happen when Harry got home.

Sniffling as her dreams shattered one by one, Hermione slowly crumbled to the floor and let powerful sobs wrack her body. This was the worst day of her life.

* * *

Written for:

Speed Drabble: Harry/Hermione, Desperation, "Are you kidding me?

Getting Around Challenge: Hermione/Harry

Gringotts: "I don't know why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every part of my body is broken too." ~Terri Guillements


	38. Drabble 38: Dramione

Drabble 38: Dramione

Rating: T

Emotions: Humiliation and amusement.

AN: *blushes* This is my first attempt at Dramione. I hope you all like it. :)

* * *

"Oh, and what are you doing here?"

Hermione turns, intent on asking why in the world did they need to know, when she looked into entrancing gray eyes. They were a light with something, what, Hermione didn't know, but somehow she could tell that the words weren't meant to be harsh. They simply expressed his curiosity.

Deciding that it wasn't worth it to be rude, she simply turned her gaze back to the sky and hummed thoughtfully to herself.

Rain poured from the dark clouds and the cheers of her classmates rang loudly in her ears as they all focused their attention on the supposedly 'exciting' Quidditch game before them.

Hermione didn't know why they had to be out here even during the rain to play the game; After all, wouldn't the supplies still be here if they waited until they rain let up?

Hermione scowled to herself, grabbing one of her curly brown locks and twirling it in her fingers.

If it wasn't for Harry, she could have been in her warm bed enjoying one of the fine books the school had in its collection. If it weren't for the fact that he was her best friend and she loved him; she wouldn't have gone to this ridiculous game.

A cough, deep and obviously fake, sounded and Hermione turned her head back to the blond who tapped his foot impatiently on the ground.

"Harry," she states, pointing towards the smiling figure belonging to her friend as he rode his broom delightfully throughout the pitch. Malfoy didn't seem satisfied by her answer for a mere moment later, he sat right next to her, back almost rigid as it made contact with the cold benches of the stands.

"Come off it, Granger. What's the real reason you're here? It definitely can't be because of-", he broke off gaze landing on Harry before returning back to her, "Potter."

Hermione says nothing. She simply sighs before bringing her hand up and waving vaguely in Malfoy's direction.

"How nice, Malfoy. Unlike you, I am supportive of my friends. Now, get out of my face."

A scowl marred the blonde's face as a light blush covered his cheeks.

"I can be supportive!" he defends, voice practically oozing indignation and he shifted just the slightest bit closer.

"Oh, really?" She asks, raising a slightly bushy eyebrow in his direction and then gesturing towards the pitch.

"In that case, show me what you got." Hermione laughs as his cheeks grew a tad bit darker and watched, amused, as the blond looked determinedly into the air and screamed, "YOU CAN DO IT, POTTER!"

All at once, all the noise disappeared and Malfoy's cheeks rivaled the color of an apple as he turned around, trying and failing to look away from the inquisitive and downright shocked faces that looked at him.

The gawking continues for a mere second until it's simply too much and the blond yells disdainfully, "WHY ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'VE JUST KILLED MERLIN?! CONTINUE THE GAME!"

A moment passes until finally, finally, people take heed of his words and the game continues.

Hermione laughs, almost chocking, as she wheezes loudly. It's too much… As if it wasn't impossible, Draco's blush darkened and spread until it reached his ears and the blonde scowled in her direction.

"That wasn't funny, Granger," he hisses, embarrassed beyond belief as the chocolate eyed girl laughs even harder.

Her guffaws ring throughout the stadium for a good minute until finally they die down in volume and all that's left is the occasional chuckle.

Moving closer to the blonde and slinging her arm across his shoulders, Hermione leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "You know, you're not that bad to be around. I think we could be great friends given time."

Draco glanced at her haughtily for a moment before chuckling in exasperation, blush slowly leaving the milky skin.

"I guess," he stresses, relaxing just a little bit into her embrace, "you're not that bad."

Hermione chuckles, pulling away and standing up. About to walk away, she looks into grey eyes and declares, "In that case, I'll see you soon, Draco," before sauntering off to meet the guys as the final cheer rings throughout the pitch.

Later, when she returns to the common room, Dean Thomas runs up to her and snickers while giving her a high five and yelling, "That was a brilliant idea! You have to do it again!" before scurrying back to wherever he came from.

Hermione chuckles, amused by the days events, as she makes her way to her dorm room.

* * *

Written for:

Hopscotch- "That's a brilliant idea!" (dialogue), apple (food), Quidditch Pitch (location), "Get out of my face!" (dialogue).

Gringotts- Embarrassed (Feeling), After (Preposition), Hisses (Descriptor), Snickers (Descriptor), Chuckles (Descriptor), Wheezed (Descriptor), Yelled (Descriptor), Stressed (Descriptor), Gawked (Descriptor), Cheered (Descriptor).

Ultimate Battle Competition 2- Accessory Set - Word count of this fic without AN: 714.


	39. Drabble 39: HermioneCormac

Drabble 39: Hermione/Cormac

Emotions: Sadness and Fluff

Rating: T

* * *

"Don't you understand that I need you?" Ron asked, bordering on the edge of hysteria as he gripped Hermione's arm tighter. "You can't be serious?!" he begged.

Hermione sighed, resigned to the fact that Ron was going to be a baby about this. She had made it specifically clear when she accepted his dinner invitation that she would _not_ be going as a date.

Oh how she regretted accepting it. She should have known that Ron would ignore her warnings and treat her as if she were his girlfriend. Heck, he even bought her a rose and had the gall to give it to her while leaning in for a kiss.

What part of blissfully in a relationship did he not understand? Cormac and Hermione had been going out for a year now and the red headed prat _still_ couldn't figure out that she simply wasn't interested?

Feeling a migrane coming on, Hermione shook her head and made yet another attempt to thrust the rose back into his hand.

"Ron," she started, practically oozing the annoyance she felt into her words, "there is no way in _hell_ that I would go out with you. Look, you're a nice guy and all, and I'm sure that some nice girl is waiting for you, but she isn't _me._ I love Cormac, and you need to accept that. I love you, I really do, but only as a _friend_ ," she stressed.

Ron's expression morphed into one of utter irritation and his eyebrow twitched as he snarled, "Cormac, that jerk! He _knew_ you were mine!"

Hermione let out a huge whoosh of air as a vein bulged on her forehead. Eyes narrowing in utter rage, she snarled, "Ron, he was with me for _years._ You're the one that should know that I'm _his_." With that said, Hermione 'hmphed' and abruptly turned, intent on getting away from the prat that was supposed to be her best friend.

The red head called out, but Hermione stayed true to herself as she continued her strut down the street.

Finally reaching the sleek black honda parked around the corner, she hopped in and placed a chaste kiss on the lips of the driver.

"Thanks for picking me up," she whispered, lingering just a moment longer and breathing in his air. An arm, strong and muscular, wrapped around her shoulders and she was pulled into a deeper kiss.

"No problem, 'Mione. Come on, let's get you home," Cormac replied, ending the kiss and unwrapping his arm to grip the steering wheel.

Hermione nodded, pressing her head against the cool glass of the window.

She was Cormac's and Cormac's only and _nothing_ Ron could do or say could change that.

* * *

Written for:

Speed Drabble - "Don't you understand that I need you?", Rose, and Dinner.


	40. Drabble 40: LuciusNarcissa

Drabble 40: Narcissa/Lucius

Emotions: Amused Worry

Rating: T

* * *

"Why, pray tell, are you in a tree?" Abraxus asked, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow and placing his hand on his hip.

Lucius looked up, eyes wide as he took in the imposing form of his father. Narcissa, who was on the ground, looked up and hid a smile as she saw Abraxus' questioning eyes silently take in the scene.

"It's not what you think!" Lucius announced, wiggling slightly as he shimmied down the long bark. When his feet touched the ground, he walked as gracefully as he could over to his father, and looked straight into familiar gray eyes.

"I was just," he began hands moving in different directions as he searched for a way to explain just what was going on. However, Abraxus interrupted him with a long gloved hand, pointing towards the tree with his eyes narrowed in thought.

"I believe that _you,_ Lucius, are an idiot. What were you thinking going up in that tree?" He asked, almost huffing in disbelief.

"But father!" His son whined.

"No buts, Lucius. Haven't I taught you to climb a tree with grace when trying to impress a girl? I can't _believe_ you're my son," Abraxus said, judging and reprimanding the boy with stern eyes.

"Watch and learn," he demanded cockily, struting towards the tree and climbing it with unmistakable finesse. Plucking a gleaming apple from the tree, he shimmied back down and gently presented it to Narcissa with a bow.

"Here you go, M'lady," he whispered before turning around and smirking wickedly at his son.

"That, my dear idiotic son, is how you treat a lady." Laughing, Abraxus walked away with pep in his step, still marveling over how he could best his son.

For an old man, he still had it!

* * *

Written for:

Speed Drabble: "Why are you in a tree?", Judging, Question.

Ultimate Battle: Single Accessory

Ultimate Chocolate Frog Cards:

 **1\. (Bronze):** **Abraxas Malfoy:** _(fl. 1954-1968) was a pure-blood wizard, father of Lucius Malfoy, grandfather of Draco Malfoy and great-grandfather of Scorpius Malfoy. He was related by marriage to the Blacks, through his daughter-in-law Narcissa, and, more distantly, to the Lestranges._

Challenge: Write about Abraxas Malfoy. Prompts: Amulet, Root, Demon, Mention


	41. Drabble 41: ScorpiusHermione

Drabble 41: Scorpius/Hermione

Emotions: Desperation and Sadness

Rating: T

* * *

"You drive me crazy," Scorpius rasped, face pressing deeper into brown locks as he struggled to inhale her flowery scent.

"I wouldn't normally do this, but you... you bring out the worst in me," he continued, desperation and utter despair waging war on his peace of mind.

"I shouldn't have to do this to get you. It's _wrong,"_ Scorpius said, trembling as he desperately scrambled to hold on to her.

In his head, Slughorn's words echoed.

 _When the day is over, all will go back to normal. It will be as if the day never happened._

Tears run unheeded down his cheeks and he trembled harder, in the throes of utter sorrow as the ticking of the clock sounded omniously in his ears.

 _5_

 _Please, please, don't do this. Don't take her away from me._

 _4_

 _Fate can't be this cruel. You can't **do** this!_

 _3_

 _Please, I need more time!_

 _2_

 _Just one more hour!_

 _1_

 _I love you._

 _0_

As if it were all a dream, Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and reopened. The brunette jumped, confused and looking around wildly as she attempted to find out where she was.

"Scorpius?" she asked, chocolate orbs coming to rest on him. Said boy smiled, tears running down his flushed cheeks rapidly, and shaking his head slowly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking a step back.

"What?" Hermione questioned, looking at him with concern lurking in her eyes.

"I'm so, so, sorry," he reperated, taking yet another step back before rushing towards the door. Hermione reached out, intent on stopping the crying blonde, but she was too late. He was already gone.

Looking around, Hermione frowned to herself. She didn't like how sad the boy was.

Deciding that she was going to go make sure he was okay, Hermione bolted, not realizing that an empty vial laid on the ground behind her with a mere drop of shimmering liquid leaking onto the floor.

 _It'd be the best day of your life but when midnight comes, it'd all fade away._

* * *

Written for:

Hopscotch- Scorpius/Hermione, Liquid Luck potion, "You drive me crazy."

Ultimate Battle Competition: Single Accessory - Word Count: 378


	42. Drabble 42: HermioneCormac

Drabble 42: Hermione/Cormac

Emotions: Exasperation and love.

Rating: T

* * *

 _How truly typical of them. How dare they leave me here with **him** of all people? _ Hermione fumed silently to herself, plotting all the ways she could kill them without getting caught.

Her supposed best friends, Ron and Harry, had left her with Cormac Mclaggen, the cutest boy in all of Hogwarts and the boy who just so happened to be the focus of her affections for three years now.

Oh, she would kill them, slowly and painfully if she had any say about it. Cackling quietly to herself, Hermione failed to notice the light pink blush that settled on Cormac's cheeks as he gazed at her form.

She was beautiful; chestnut hair flowing wildly down her back with a sort of grace that astounded Cormac and magnificent chocolate eyes that gleamed slightly in the light the corridors provided as the girl debated with herself.

Hermione was perfect in his eyes, and he found himself wanting to bring her into his arms; to kiss those adorable lips and to whisper sweet nothings in her small ears while holding her petite body against his own.

Cormac gulped, completely aware of the heat that had steadily been building around him reaching it's crescendo. He could hear his heart pounding furiously in his ears, and could practically taste his heedy desire in the air as he took in her expression of vindictive glee.

Uncounciously taking a step closer, Cormac reached out and brought her closer; intent on that glorious body being pressed against his own muscular one.

So lost in her own musings Hermione was, she failed to notice that she was being forcibly moved until lips, soft and full, brushed against her ear.

Immediately, she stilled, barely breathing as the smell of pine and _Cormac_ invaded her senses. The lips moved, air tickling her lobe, and whispered into the scorching air around them, "Do you know how long I've wanted you?"

Hermione gulped, blushing to the top of her ears as she retorted in the same low voice, "Do you know how long I've wanted _you_?" Cormac smiled, lips brushing against her ears once more as he pulled back, looking into innocent yet lust filled eyes.

"In that case, you can have me," he breathed. Before Hermione could respond, soft and full lips crashed against hers. It was full of desire, affection, and love, and Hermione loved every minute of it as she put everything she could in the kiss, all the bottled up emotions that she struggled with for _years_ finally releasing into the air with a loud and joyful blast of euphoria.

After what seemed like forever, they pulled apart and simply gazed into one another's eyes, adoration and happiness shining brightly in them.

 _Perhaps, I should thank Ron and Harry before killing them? Yep,_ Hermione smiled to herself, _sounds like a plan._

* * *

Written for:

Hopscotch: Any Pairing (Hermione/Cormac), Hogwarts (Location), Typical (word).

Ultimate Battle Comp. - Single Accessory x2. Word Count: 499


	43. Drabble 43: SiriusJames

Drabble 43: Sirius/James

Emotion(s): Exasperation

Rating: T

* * *

 _"Brainy's the new sexy"_

 _~Irene Adler,Sherlock BBC_

* * *

A dark scowl marred Sirius' face as he waited in the common room. His best friend, the one guy he always thought would have his back until the bitter end, had betrayed him. This betrayal was deep, so deep in fact, that even now it tore ruthlessly at Sirius' heartstrings.

James Potter, head of the mauraders and best friend of one Sirius Black had _dared_ to ditch Sirius to _study._

Sirius had the day all planned out- they would first go to the Three Broomsticks to get some butterbeer and then they would sneak off to go to awesomest nightclub in town, Krystal.

He had been on his way to get James only to find out that he _wasn't_ there. What load of hippogriff shit was that? In total rage mode, Sirius had stomped back to the school, determined to get some answers.

Now he stood, permanent scowl on his face and foot tapping irritably, on the carpet of the Gryffindor common room. Moments passed until finally, _finally_ , James opened the portrait and walked in, unaware of the dark intentions that lurked in Sirius' head.

The boy continued on, seemingly on a mission to go to the dorms, with four books in his hands. Feeling a vein bulging on his forehead, Sirius' arm shot out like a snake, grabbing ahold of one of the other boy's muscular arm in a tight grip. Immediately, the young Potter stopped in his tracks, spinning around and ripping his arm out of his assaliants hold, hand immediately going to his wand only to stop when he looked into dark gray eyes.

"Sirius!" James yelped, jumping about a foot into the air. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sirius said nothing for a moment, merely looked into his friend's eyes until the anger grew to be too much.

"What am _I_ doing?" He parroted. "What do you think _you're_ doing?"

"Studying, obviously," James retorted, patting the stack of books in his hands. "Something which you should be doing as well."

"Why would I study on a weekend? _You_ don't even study on a weekend!" Sirius protested fiercley, pointing an accusing finger at James. "You've betrayed me for _books!_ I expect this from Remus but from you- James, how could you?!"

"Quiet _down!_ " James hissed, eyes flashing for a moment before he sighed.

"Listen," he began, voice light as he reached out a hand and patted Sirius' cheeks. "We have our Newts coming up and I want to ace this and become an Auror. It's our dream! Don't tell me you don't want to achieve our dream."

"B-but studying is so not cool!" Sirius whined, looking into calm hazel eyes.

"You're right," James agreed. "Studying isn't cool, but _brainy,_ my friend, is the new sexy."

Sirius gasped, eyes brightening as he stealthily grabbed a book from James' pile. "If that's the case, then let's go! Mr. Smexy, which is totally me, by the way, needs to go brush up on his skills."

With that said, Sirius and James traveled across the new level of sexiness that books opened up for them, later achieving their dreams and becoming two of the best Aurors ever known.

* * *

Written for:

Drabble Club: "Brainy's the new sexy." Irene Adler, Sherlock Holmes, BBC.

Ultimate Battle Competition: Matching Accessory Set, Word Count: 602

Gringotts Prompt Bank: Three Broom Sticks (Harry Potter Location Prompts), "Brainy's the new sexy," (Dialogue Prompts, Sherlock)


	44. Drabble 44: A Very Druna Holiday

A Very Druna Holiday

By Firediva0

AN: Merry Christmas everybody! :) I hope this is an absolutely marvelous one for you all. This was written for Auden/Hope and I hope you have a very merry christmas and a happy new year! :D Just to let you all know, the poem is not mine, and Draco is OOC probably to the extreme. I wanted to see chibi Draco and had to fulfill the prompts, so this was born.

* * *

 **My Heart Before Christmas**

Twas the night before Christmas  
And all through my heart  
My blood was a pumping  
Fast from the start.

From the first moment I saw you  
The emotions were there  
Hanging from my shirt sleeves  
with tender loving care.

as we embark on the holiday  
Enjoying this time  
My heart grows fuller  
Just knowing you're mine.

Every experience with you  
Makes my heart pitter patter  
The gifts and the food  
None of that matters.

My heart keeps beating  
Strong and sure  
Pumping loudly  
For the one I adore.

It's the love, and the laughter,  
And all in between.

It's the joy, and the happiness  
That brings me such peace.

So listen and hear it  
This audio work of art  
Merry Christmas, Baby  
With all of my heart.

 **Christmas Love Poems by KYB**

* * *

Draco ran, chest heaving and his cheeks a brilliant pink, towards the park. Kids and adults alike all looked towards him as if he were insane, but he didn't care. _She_ was waiting for him and that was enough for him to utterly ignore the embarrassment that wanted to show. He continued on his path, smiling widely when he finally saw blonde hair in the distance.

When he was a mere four feet away from her, he slowed, coming to a jog and then to a walk as he finally reached her. The wind whipped past his ears and the cold bite of the air touched his skin. He shivered, wishing that he had worn more layers, but upon looking into silver eyes so much like his own, he couldn't bring himself to care.

A hand, milky white with light pink nails, slowly rose and cupped his face, her gray eyes twinkling in delight.

 _Yes_ , he decided. The cold was totally worth the warm feeling that steadily built up in his chest.

* * *

"Luna!" Draco huffed, rolling over until he lay right beside her in the bed. "Do I _really_ have to go? Tomorrow's Christmas! I want to be with you..."

"Yes, you do, Draco, not stop whining," she demanded, rolling her eyes at the blonde's antics. Draco was behaving like a child. Going to see her father wasn't _that_ bad!

Smiling to herself when she heard Draco huff once more, Luna sat up and combed her hand through his silky blond hair.

"How about this," she began, twirling one of the soft strands. "You go with me for Christmas Dinner tonight and I'll let you open your gift when we come back home."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Really?" He asked excitedly. "You'd seriously let me open it _before_ Christmas?"

"Yes, but _only_ if you go with me tonight," she repeated, knowing that she had already probably lost him to his imaginations.

"YES!" Draco yelled, climbing out of bed hastily and running towards the closet to pick out his outfit. When he had picked out a solid dark blue suit with the Malfoy seal stitched onto the breast pocket, he looked back and raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

"What are you still doing in bed? We have a christmas party to go to! Chop, chop!" He admonished. Luna giggled silently to herself before getting up and following his demands.

Her boyfriend was such a child sometimes!

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy," Xenophilius began, extending a hand to Draco. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine," Draco replied smoothly, years of social knowledge that had been crammed into his head since birth, shining through. Mr. Lovegood smiled, showing both Draco and Luna to the formal dining room.

When they were all seated with heaping mounds of food in front of them, Xenophilius spoke again.

"So, how long have you two been together?" he asked, voice showing curiosity rather than resentment. Luna smiled, eyes twinkling in happiness as she linked Draco's and her hands together under the table.

"Two years," she said. Xenophilius smiled, gray eyes shining as if he knew what his daughter had done.

"May I ask who asked out who?" He questioned.

"I did," Draco interrupted when it looked like Luna was about to speak. "I had been crushing on her for two years- when I saw her in the astronomy tower with the stars twinkling above her, I simply couldn't take it anymore. I asked her and she-"

"Said yes," Luna finished, practically bouncing in her chairs as the precious memories assaulted her.

"I see," Xenophilius remarked, reaching out for another portion of chicken. "In that case, welcome to the family, Draco."

* * *

"Luna!" Draco said excitedly when they finally returned home. "You said I could open up my gift when we got back!"

Luna chuckled, putting her purse on the table and taking off her jacket.

"So I did," she shrugged, walking towards the staircase, already knowing that her boyfriend would follow like a lost puppy.

When she reached the top, she headed straight to their shared closet and went to her side, digging around and making a sound of triumph when she found her desired box.

Pulling it out, she sat on the bed and waited for Draco to return from getting his own box, and presented it to him when he looked at her with puppy eyes from besides her.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered as he opened it with vigor. He managed to get halfway through with saying "I love you, too," before gasping. In his palm sat a dark blue journal with gold swirls etched onto it.

He opened it, hands tracing the parchment with reverance before pausing when he found the middle of the book. In beautiful pastels, a dragon bearing the Malfoy coat of arms in the flames that erupted from his nose, was drawn.

Draco gulped, once, then twice, before he gently placed the journal aside and brought Luna into his arms, eyes watering with emotions as he held her close.

"Luna!," he sobbed, happy beyond belief. Luna chuckled, the sound like music to his ears. After a minute of him clinging to her, she gently pulled his arms from around her and looked into tearful gray eyes.

"I know that because of Voldemort, you weren't allowed to follow your dreams to work in a dragon reserve... I hope that with this journal, you get to do what you've always wanted and write about all the awesome different kinds of dragons that you couldn't learn about before," she whispered softly. Draco nodded before looking away, needing a moment to compose himself after the vicious assault of emotions.

After a moment of silence, Draco sniffed for the final time before smiling and bringing out the big box he had set aside to open Luna's present.

"Here you go!" He said, presenting it to her. Luna giggled, gently unraveling the green ribbon and the blue wrapping. When it was all gone, she gasped, picking the contents up with gentle hands.

"Draco, you didn't!" Luna gasped, looking at the blonde with shocked filled eyes. Draco smirked, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her lips.

"I did," he whispered, pulling back and watching as she smilled brilliantly.

"Thank you!" she gushed. Draco simply grinned, acquiezing when she pulled her hair to the side so he could bestow upon her neck his gift.

Now adorning Luna's person was a magnificent golden chain with a dark blue moon for a pendant. Etched onto the very center of the moon was _F_ _orever Yours, Draco_ in small golden letters.

* * *

Finally, Yule was here!

To celebrate, Draco and Luna traveled by portkey to Malfoy Manor and joined all the other purebloods in the Yuletide ball. Long dresses and gowns were worn by the women and suits of all sorts of backgrounds were worn by the men. Together couples swept each other off their feet, and mistletoe was littered all over the dance floor.

Candy canes and other goodies sat at the snack table while the witches and wizards danced and mingled. Looking at Luna, Draco extended an arm and smiled.

"Would you care for a dance, M'lady?" he questioned. Luna snickered, eyes twinkling as she accepted his hand and walked gracefully towards the dance floor. Wrapping her hands around his neck while his own wrapped around her waist, Luna and Draco danced, faces showcasing how calm they were as they twirled and spun all around the dance floor.

After a couple of songs, the hostess, one Narcissa Malfoy, decreed that it was time for dinner and all the purebloods shuffled towards the formal dining room, each with a polite smile painted on their faces.

Draco and Luna were seated at the head table with Narcissa, Lucius, Xenophilius, Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Rudolphus.

"So, Draco," his mother started, blue eyes shining with happiness. "Are you going to introduce your friend?" Said blonde startled, eyes widening as he realized his mistake.

"You're right," he began, getting up and placing a caring arm around Luna's shoulders. "Mother, this is my girlfriend, Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is my mother, Narcissa Malfoy." Luna smiled, raising a polite hand and shaking Narcissa's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Malfoy," she declared. Narcissa grinned back. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. By the way, Narcissa is fine." Luna nodded. "Narcissa then."

"Draco," Narcissa called, locking blue with gray. "What's to happen with your engagement with Pansy? I'm happy that you and Luna have found each other, but I'm sure you know that engagements can't simply be broken." Draco gulped before steeling his resolve.

"I love Luna. Pansy and I are just friends. While I'm aware that engagements can't simply be broken, I'm going to go ahead with _Quod Verus Amor_." At the mention of the ritual, Narcissa suddenly inhaled a breath and everyone inside the hall immediately went silent. The three words echoing mysteriously throughout everyone's minds.

"Are you sure?" Xenophilius questioned, voice breaking the silence. Draco and Luna nodded.

"Like I said, I love Luna and I will gladly chain my life to Luna's in exchange for being allowed to be with her forever," Narcissa, Xenophilius, and Lucius all looked inside Draco and Luna's eyes before sighing. It was obvious that the two were serious about that and they all knew they wouldn't be able to change their minds.

With that settled, everything went back to the way it was as the couples began talking once more. Chatter and music filled the halls as life once again returned to the party. However, in the back of everyone's minds, the _Quod Verus Amor_ lurked.

* * *

"Ugh! I'm never going to another Christmas party again!" Draco swore, jumping onto the bed and sighing in pure bliss as his back landed on the soft comforter.

Luna giggled, taking things slowly as she changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed next to him.

"What about next year?" she asked. Draco groaned.

"Never!" he repeated. Luna sniggered, turning to her side and pressing a kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered, all humor now gone as she looked into those beautiful silver eyes.

"I love you, too," he mumbled, kissing her once more before pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

Luna grinned, allowing Draco's soft breaths in her ears to guide her to the realm of sleep.

* * *

Written for:

Secret Santa: MoonlightSunlightEclipse - Hope - Gryffindor - Druna(Draco/Luna), christmas presents, and a shocking announcement.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, Hope/Auden! I hope it's an awesome one for you.

Ultimate Battle Comp. Golden Set: Luna/Draco. Word Count: 1,920.

Gringotts: Candy Canes (Christmas Prompts)

Quidditch Pitch: Xenophilius Lovegood (Character)


	45. Drabble 45: VoldemortHarry

Drabble 45: Voldemort/Harry

Emotions: Angst and Horror

Rating: T

* * *

Harry whimpered, bordering on the edge of hysteria as his bonds dug deeper into his wrist. His head hurt, a furious pounding ringing in his ears, and he could feel the little puddle of his own blood underneath his feet.

A chuckle, cruel and malicious, sounded before his chin was seized in a brusing grip and his face was forced to the side. Dark red eyes alight with triumph met broken emerald orbs.

"Harry Potter," the man cooed, stepping in to nuzzle Harry's dirty cheek. "It's a _pleasure_ to house you."

Harry snarled in response, teeth clattering together after a failed attempt to bite the man.

"I can't say that the feeling is mutual, Tom," Harry gritted out when the hold on his chin grew impossibly tighter in reprimand. Tom smiled blindingly at his captive, the fact that he had no teeth all the more obvious.

"But, Harry," he whispered. "I know you love my presence." Harry laughed harshly at this.

"If that's what helps you sleep at night, Voldy," he teased, knowing that the nickname would piss the old man off. It did, for in the next moment, a wand was out and a bright red spell hit him full force; screams tearing themselves from Harry's throat as the Crucio sent bolts of fiery pain throughout his already battered form. Tom, the cruel bastard he was, simply watched the proceedings in boredom, releasing the spell after five long and painful minutes.

"You don't seem to get it," the red eyed man hissed, raising a hand to ghost along the numerous open wounds on Harry's person, relishing in the grunts of pain it brought. "You are _my_ captive, meaning you follow _my_ rules. I _own_ you, Harry."

Harry coughed, a stream of blood rising from his throat, and launched it at Voldemort with his mouth.

"I'm owned by _no one_ ," he rasped, voice a mere whisper. Voldemort looked at him, saying nothing for a moment as he looked at the teen before him.

"In that case," he eventually said, leaning forward until his lips ghosted along Harry's slack ones. "I'll relish in breaking you until you _beg_ to be owned by me." With that said, he abruptly turned, walking out of the cell with an air of grace while Harry's voice boomed behind him.

"YOU WILL _NEVER_ OWN ME!" the emerald eyed teen screamed, the words getting to him more than anything else.

"I'll survive, I'll conquer, and in the end, I'll _destroy_ you! Do you hear me, Voldemort? I will utterly _obliterate_ you!"

In response to the boy's screams, a seemingly strong wind whipped through the room. A broken sort of determination clouded emerald eyes as the boy was once again immersed in darkness.

* * *

Written for:

Rebirth of the daily prompt thing: (genre) Horror.

One prompt, many fandoms: Harry Potter, Prompt: Angst

Ultimate Battle: Single Accessory X2. Word Count: 503


	46. Drabble 46: GellertAlbus

Drabble 46: Gellert/Albus

Emotions: Exasperation and reluctant affection.

Rating: T

* * *

"We shouldn't be doing this," Albus cautioned, shifting slightly from his place on Gellert's lap. "What if someone comes here and finds me and you like this rather than facing off in a legendary duel?"

Gellert laughed, the sound like music to Albus' ears, wrapping his arms around his younger lover and burying his face in the long auburn hair.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "No one will come looking for us."

"Oh really?" Albus questioned, one of his eyebrows raised. "And how do you know that?"

"I just know," the blonde refuted, nuzzling the boy's neck. "Now, be quiet and just enjoy the peace while it lasts."

"Peace? You wouldn't know peace even if it slapped you in the a-" Albus declared before a hand firmly placed itself on top of his mouth.

"Not another word," the older boy growled. Albus laughed, the sound echoing throughout the battle field, raising his hand to pull the other boy's hand off.

"I was just saying," he began. "That if someone were to find us, they would try to put you away. They may even try to kill you!" At that alarming thought, Albus made to get up but was stopped by two hands firmly gripping his hips.

"Stop being so dramatic, Albus," Gellert scolded, pulling him back into his lap. "Everything will be fine."

It wasn't though because just like Albus precautioned, they were seen and Albus was forced to attack his lover, desperate to make sure Gellert wouldn't have to fight anyone else and be killed. In the end, he wasn't.

Albus had managed to 'defeat' him but with his defeat came imprisonment, and the younger wizard's heart broke as his beloved was bound and sent to Nurmengard, forbidden to ever see the light of day again.

Hailed around as a hero, Albus mourned. The tragic knowledge that he'd never see his lover again forever etched into his brain.

Now looking at the baby who would one day have to go through the same, Albus cried. Knowing that in the fight for the greater good, little Harry would probably have to endure the same fate he did.

The path of eternal despair awaited the child and Albus knew without a doubt that he would ensure that he was there every step of the way.

With one last look into clear and innocent emerald green eyes, Albus left, determined to make sure the boy would live a happy life.

If only he knew that one of his first decisions, would be the worst...

* * *

Written for:

The Sims Three Challenge: Personality Trait: Dramatic.

Rebirth of the Daily Weird Prompt Thing: Character: Albus Dumbledore.

Ultimate Battle: Single Accessory x2: Word Count:462


	47. Drabble 47: VoldemortHarry

Drabble 47: Voldemort/Harry

Emotions: Paranoia, romance, and fright.

Rating: T

* * *

 _He could hear the wind; a sharp whoosh as he ran through the broken streets of Surrey. His heart beat furiously against his chest and the coppery smell of blood assaulted him as he bolted, determined to get away from the monster that was chasing him._

 _He could hear shouts behind him, threats as deadly as a knife to the throat as they tore at his mental sheilds, pushing fear deep into his brain._

 _He had to get away; had to get away before that thing got to him. Harry could hear each footfall the creature took, practically taste the smell of determination and utter rage that covered his assaliants soul._

 _Fear, horrible and destructive, made itself known in his stomach. Screeches and screams, threats and promises... They were all yelled into the air and Harry knew that once he stopped, he would be engulfed in never ending pain; forced to surrender or be beaten senseless; forced to feel absolutely helpless as his captor inflicted whatever damage he wished upon Harry's body._

 _He couldn't allow that to happen, but fate didn't seem to be on his side. Darkness, heedy and disturbing, slowly set in. It clawed around the edges of his vision before it completely engulfed it; leaving him in an abyss of neverending sorrow._

* * *

 _A pained scream sounded as the sound of leather against flesh sounded. Blood slowly dripped to the floor and he could hear the maddening rhythm it made._

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap..._

 _It was driving him crazy, yet the figure above him didn't care. Again and again the sound of leather against flesh sounded and pained sobs ripped themselves out of his throat._

 _His chin was seized in a rough grip and emerald eyes were forced to stare into his uncle's black ones. Spit flung towards his mouth yet Harry was powerless to do anything as his Uncle yelled from above him._

 _Worthless._

 _Stupid._

 _Ungrateful._

 _Not needed._

 _Each word was like a whip lash to the heart but Harry didn't let any of the feelings of utter despair show. He kept it all in; blank emerald eyes peering into his Uncle's and insighting even more rage._

 _The beating continued, the pain didn't stop, and his soul was slowly breaking._

* * *

 _Blue eyes twinkling, voices speaking, heart thumping, blood oozing._

 _Dumbledore was no different._

 _"You'll save the world, Harry," the old coot once said._

 _"You'll destroy Voldemort once and for all."_

 _'It will be **you** , Harry, that ends the war. We rely on you, Harry, and one day, we know you'll do us proud."_

 _The expectations weighed heavily upon him, the darkness came back; slowly gathering around him and crippling him once more._

 _"You're our savior, Harry. **You have no will.** "_

* * *

 _"Where did he go?!" Ron asked, stuffing a peice of candy he found in his pocket into his mouth. "We have to find him!"_

 _Ginny nodded, red hair swinging in the wind, looking wildly around her._

 _"Come on," she whispered. "The idiot has to be around here somewhere. Let's go find him so I can seduce him and we can get his money." Ron nodded, hastening his step and going towards his sister._

 _"Let's."_

 _The two left, not realizing that the boy they seeked was hiding behind a statue. Emerald green eyes followed their departure, coldness lingering within those once pure orbs._

* * *

Harry woke up, gasping for beath as sweat trickled down his body. Immediately, he ran to the bathroom, throwing up all the contents in his stomach as the memories flew past his mind's eyes.

Tom, his beloved husband, barged into the room, taking in the scene quickly before dropping to his knees and holding Harry's hair away from his face.

The boy dry heaved, phantom pain dancing along his body and the darkness still shrouding some of his vision. Minutes went by before finally Harry's head emerged from the toilet bowl. Reaching blindly behind him for a washcloth, Harry sighed in relief when his husband placed a wet one within his hand.

He scrubbed at his mouth, furiously trying to remove any evidence of his sickness. Tom waited, not saying anything as he watched his husband clean himself up. Instead, he just ran his hands through the silky raven hair and let his lover sort through the horrid thoughts that obviously plagued him.

Two minutes went by this time before finally Harry broke the almost companionable silence.

"I saw them again," he whispered, almost deadly silent. Tom didn't need to ask who Harry was referring to. He already knew that those monsters still plagued his lovers dreams. Moving forward, he pulled the boy into his arms, wishing that he could protect him from the phantom people who wished his husband harm.

Harry smiled, water rising in his eyes, shaking in Tom's hold. Even now, six years after the end of the war, Dumbledore and his relatives still managed to make his life a living hell.

Harry sobbed, feeling his walls crumbling around him. If he listened closely, he could still hear the blood as it fell to the floor.

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap..._

When the sobs finally siezed, Tom picked Harry up bridal style and brought him back to the bed, gently sliding him under the covers and slipping in next to him.

The two lay in silence, red eyes looking into green before the man finally spoke.

"Harry," he began. Said boy hummed, hand sneaking out to wrap around Tom's.

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"You know I love you, right?" Harry smiled, bringing their joined hands up and laying a kiss upon them.

"I know you do," he assured. "It's what keeps me sane."

Voldemort smiled, this time being the one to bring their joined hands together and laying a kiss upon them. "If I'm the one that keep you sane, then I'll always be a happy man." He meant it too and on that night, Harry slept with a smile on his face, knowing that he was loved and he loved in return.

It was okay that his relatives, Dumbledore, and his once upon a time family didn't love him; as long as he had Tom, he could deal with that.

Tom was his rock and he knew that he was Tom's. Their love was pure, something the self proclaimed light side would never understand. Thinking about it like that, Harry knew that even if the nightmares continued to plague him for the rest of eternity; he would always be happy if he had Tom.

* * *

Written For:

Ultimate Battle: Pajama Pants - Write about a dream/nightmare - Word Count: 1,120.

Rebirth of Daily Prompt Thing: Day 2 - Bathroom.


	48. Drabble 48: HermioneHarry

Drabble 48: Hermione/Harry

Emotions: Affection

Rating: T

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry yelped, running through the portrait with a scowl on his face. Hermione looked up from the book she was reading and stared at her boyfriend long and hard before raising one eyebrow.

"It seems that someone had a rather interesting day," she remarked, wordlessly beckoning him forward and patting the cushion next to her softly. Walking towards her, Harry sat down rather ungracefully and slumped in his seat, his scowl becoming deeper as he pouted almost uncounciously.

"What happened?" Hermione questioned, faint amusement painting her words. Green eyes met her own and Hermione had to lift her hand to her mouth in order to hide her mirth when she saw him blush. It seemed the raven still wasn't used to being in a relationship with her.

"Well," Harry began, gesturing towards the red substance that covered his torso with a grimace. "Fred, George, and I got into a prank war and _this_ happened."

Hermione laughed, the sound like music to Harry's ears, as she leaned in to examine the mystery substance.

"It looks to me," Hermione started, giggling softly under her breath. "That they got you _really_ good."

Seeing that his girlfriend was amused on his behalf, Harry's scowl melted away as his pout became more pronounced.

"Hermione!" he whined. "You're supposed to be on _my_ side."

Said girl merely chuckled, shaking her head and tutting.

"No, Harry," she began. "I'm only your side during select circumstances. You, my dear, have no sympathy from me."

With that said, Hermione strutted out of the common room, laughing when she heard Harry moan in fake despair.

* * *

Written for:

January Event: Hermione/Harry - Level 1 - 10 points.

Ultimate Battle Comp. - Single Accessory - Word Count:277


	49. Drabble 49: VoldemortBellatrix

Drabble 48: Voldemort/Bellatrix

Emotions: Reluctant Affection

Rating: T

* * *

"Come off it, Bella!" Narcissa giggled, lightly punching her sister in the arm. "You _so_ like him."

"I don't," Bella replied, absently rubbing the area Narcissa punched with a frown. The older blond simply laughed, the sound like bells, and hooked her sister's arm with her own.

"So, you're telling me," she began, looking as if the mere thought of it amused her. "That you don't like Tom Riddle, the smartest wizard alive?"

Bellatrix nodded eagerly, hoping that despite the sarcastic tone her sister had adopted, she would acknowledge it as the truth. Unfortunately, her hopes were for naught and Narcissa simply laughed once more. "I mean, how can you _not_ like Tom? He's smart, sweet, and charming. Basically the whole package!"

Bellatrix simply stared at her.

"It sounds like _you_ , dear sister, have a crush on him, not me," she retorted. Narcissa blushed, spluttering as she protested vehemently. "Me? No! You know I have my sights set on Lucius." At the mention of the blonde's name, Narcissa blushed a bright crimson.

Chuckling, Bella raised her hand, lightly patting her sister on the head. As if in retaliation, Narcissa grabbed the other girls' hand and bolted, dragging her unwilling sister towards the library. Once they were there, she let go, opting to push Bella towards the two boys who sat at an empty table towards the back.

"Tom! Lucius!" She greeted, sitting down gracefully and giving her sister a warning look, smiling when Bella slumped into a chair with a sigh.

"Narcissa," Lucius said, her name sounding like a caress on his smooth tongue. "It's simply lovely to see you." Narcissa blushed, deciding to use that in order to start a conversation between them.

Meanwhile, Bella and Tom were left on the side lines, watching the two who obviously had feelings for each other talk. After a moment or two, Tom turned, catching sight of the soft look in Bella's eyes as she peered at her sister.

"Adorable, aren't they?" He questioned, reclining slightly in his chair, gray eyes peering deeply into black ones. Bella merely nodded, not looking away from the sweet sight.

Sighing, Tom leaned forward, raising a head and carressing Bella's cheek. Almost immediately, the Slytherin blushed, crimson covering her from head to toe as she jumped away from his tender touch.

"What was that for?" She hissed, wiping at her cheek with her robe's sleeve as if she thought it to be contaminated. Tom merely smirked, adopting a wounded look as he gazed at her.

"Bella," he began. "You truly wound me."

Bellatrix just hissed in response, garnering a laugh from Tom.

"Come on, Bella," he whispered. "I know you liked it."

In response, Bella growled, getting up and storming off without a word. Behind her, gray eyes followed her every move as she stalked off, glinting in amusement and possession.

* * *

Written for:

January Event: Level 2 - Bellatrix/Voldemort

Ultimate Battle Comp. Single Accessory x2 - Word Count: 507


	50. Drabble 50: SusanHarry

Drabble 48: Susan/Harry

Emotions: Amusement

Rating: T

* * *

"You _do_ know who my aunt is, don't you?"

Looking up and catching the amusement in Susan's brown eyes, Harry nodded.

"Yes, I do," he informed. "Your aunt is Amelia Bones, head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic."

Susan smiled, raising one hand and flicking his nose lightly.

"In that case, you know that she can have you arrested faster than you can say 'Expelliarmus'. What makes you stay with me? Is it the fact that I'm 'forbidden' or because you can get connections through me?" She asked, brown eyes expressing curiosity and a bit of sorrow.

Harry frowned, standing up abruptly from his place on their shared couch and reached out to thread his hands lightly through her flaming red hair.

"Neither," he began, grimacing at the mere notion. "I love you for you, not because of who your aunt is. It actually offends me that you'd think I'd care about something so trivial."

Susan smiled, warmth radiating through her entire being as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered into his ear, breath tickling the lobe. Harry grinned softly, wrapping his arms around her hips.

"I love you, too."

* * *

Written for:

January Event - Susan Bones/Harry Potter - Level 3

Ultimate Battle Comp. - Single Accessory - Word Count: 255


	51. Drabble 51: RonFleur

Drabble 51: Fleur/Ron

Emotions: Vicious Amusement

Rating: T

* * *

Fleur grinned, dark amusement traveling through her veins as she stared at the foolish boy in front of her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Fleur allowed herself to press seductively against Ron's chest, mouth innocently brushing against his chin as she did so.

"Ron," she purred, nuzzling his chest. The red head gulped, suddenly afraid to breathe as the half Veela draped herself across his front.

"Y-yes?" He asked shakily, hands nervously coming to rest on her shapely hips. Fleur giggled, pretending she adored his innocence.

"Can you do me a favor?" She questioned softly. Ron nodded eagerly, happy at the notion that he could score some browny points with her if he did it.

"What is it?"

Turning her head, Fleur smiled, feeling a sense of triumph emerging in her gut. Pressing her mouth to his ear, she began to whisper, her breath a sinful caress that drove Ron mad.

When she pulled back, Ron nodded blearily, blue eyes glazed as he confirmed that yes, he would do it. Fleur waved happily at him as he made to leave, a dark thought forming in her mind.

 _This will do nicely,_ She thought, letting her arm fall to her side and turning around. _He's an idiot, but he'll get the job done. You, Harry Potter, will be the Dark Lord's soon and when that happens, it will be time for the Delacours to rise to power. It's truly a shame that your friend has to die because of it though. He was cute, in a naive kitten sort of way._

* * *

January Event - Level 3 - Fleur/Ron

Ultimate Battle Comp. - Single Accessory - Word Count: 285


	52. Drabble 52: ColinHarry

Drabble 52: Colin/Harry

Emotions: Amusement, exasperation, and affection.

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

"Ow!" Colin groaned, nursing his aching head and glaring fiercly at the green eyed teen in front of him. "Why'd you hit me?" he whined.

Meanwhile, Harry's beautiful laughter rang throughout the alley, the boy clutching his stomach in an attempt to not fall onto the ground.

"You-!" he gasped, a whole new bout of laughter erupting from his gut. "Obviously, you've gone mental!"

Colin pouted, brown eyes filling up with tears.

"Why would you throw a book at my head?" He yelled, his lip jutting out and the tears streaming down his face. Harry's laughter abruptly stopped and all the noise in Diagon Alley suddenly seized. People of all ages stopped and witnessed the scene before them.

"I'm sorry, Colin," Harry started, walking forward and placing a hand on Colin's arm. "I just thought I'd get back at you for all the pictures you took.'

"But, Harry!" Colin began, forcing the tears to stream faster. "I-I just wanted us to be able to recall our first date..." A loud 'oooh' echoed from their unabashed audience and Harry blushed, looking away.

"...Fine," Harry sighed. "Take as many pictures as you want."

"You promise you won't get mad?" Collin asked, eyes lighting up with a gleam of hope. Harry reluctantly nodded.

"As long as you stop crying, okay? I don't like seeing you cry."

Colin nodded, tears abruptly seizing and grabbed Harry's hand, smiling blindingly and pulling him forwards.

"In that case!" He yelled. "Let's go! I have the perfect spot in mind!"

With that said, Harry was forced to endure thousands of poses, angles, and clothes. Sad thing was, he never caught a glimpse of the devious light in those mesmerizing brown orbs...

* * *

Written for:

Hopscotch: Colin Creevey (character), laughter (word), Diagon Alley (location), "Obviously you've gone mental" (dialogue), "Why would you throw a book at my head?" (dialogue)

Getting Around Challenge: Colin/Harry

Unusual Pairings Challenge: Colin/Harry

Ultimate Battle Comp: Single Accessory: Word Count- 345


	53. Drabble 53: RonHermione

Drabble 53: Ron/Hermione

Emotions: Anger and Love

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

"I'm sick of this!" Hermione screamed, throwing her glass across the room. Her brown eyes were alight with anger as it watched, entranced, as the crimson filled tumblr connected with the wall with a loud bang."I'm sick of the secrets and the lies, but most of all, I'm sick of _you_."

Ron watched, neither laughing or red faced as his girlfriend paced around the room, angrily gesturing to things with her hands as she mumbled under her breath.

"Why?!" She screamed, abruptly turning and flashing raging brown eyes at him, walking straight towards him.

"I could have taken it if it was something small, but this, Ron?" She asked, sounding almost as if she were choking on her own words, lifting her arms to pull at her hair in distress. "You promised me- promised me that you wouldn't do this anymore, but look at what you did!"

Again, the girl picked up a random object and threw it, this time falling to the floor as tears flew down her face.

"Why did you have to do this?" She whispered brokenly. Ron said nothing, merely looked at her as she broke down, almost breaking down himself as he witnessed the normally strong witch fall into a million pieces.

"I loved you," she mumbled, struggling to speak through her tears. Ron breathed in, suddenly feeling like a monster as he turned on his heal, needing to get away from the rapidly declining girl.

 _"I'm sorry,"_ he tried to say, but nothing came out. Hearing an anguished sob, he fled, the picture of utterly destroyed chocolate colored eyes haunting him.

* * *

Written for:

Ultimate Chocoloate Frog: **(Bronze):** **Elladora Ketteridge:** _(1656 - 1729) was the first witch to discover the properties of Gillyweed, although Beaumont Majoribanks was credited with it about a century later. She nearly suffocated after eating the plant, but saved herself by sticking her head into a bucket of water._

Challenge: Write about betrayal. Prompts: Stolen, Suffocated, Water, Bucket

Ultimate Battle Comp. - Single Accessory - Word Count: 287

Getting Around Challenge: Hermione/Ron

January Event: Level 1: Ron/Hermione


	54. Drabble 54: SeverusLily

Drabble 54: Severus/Lily

Emotions: Love

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

AN: This is different from my other ones. In this story, I am the narrator and I'll be spinning a tale of a tragic love story. Don't read if this is not your cup of tea.

* * *

He was the pureblood and she was the muggle born.

Nothing good would ever come out of them falling in love but they did. He loved her; loved the fiery passion that she held for everything she did, and loved the intelligence that gleamed in her emerald orbs.

She loved him too; she loved that she was the only one who understood him, loved that he could use his hands to create beautiful things even when his views on the world were so dark.

However, even with all this love, darkness managed to come in between them. A war, one that would soon be filled with a glooming yet powerful hatred, would one day blossum and they would be caught in the crossfire.

Their once innocent love for one another would be shattered and hatred would settle in.

The girl, Lily, would leave the boy heartbroken, causing him to run far, far away, yet even that wouldn't be enough to stop the hatred that threatened to overwhelm him. The man encased in darkness found him soon enough but that wasn't the end.

James Potter, the foolish man he was, thought he could take the boy's beloved away and in the end, he did. The price that was paid though was one the boy would never forgive.

* * *

"Severus," a man shrouded in darkness hissed, voice a mere whisper as he beckoned his loyal follower forward. "What do you have for me?"

The man, Severus, came forward, bowing at his Lord's feet and smiling a cruel smile. It was one full of malevolance and his onxy eyes gleamed in malice.

"Well, My Lord," he began. "The Potter brat will be at the grave yard awaiting your command."

Voldemort nodded, crimson eyes blazing in happiness and rage, the two emotions somehow conflicting with each other.

"Excellent," he informed, standing up fluidly and waving his arm through the air sharply. Immediately, a loud clang echoed throughout the room and the Death Eaters surrounding them jumped, their eyes taking in everything while they gaped.

When the clanking stopped, an intricate wand sat on the Dark Lord's hand, the wood shining in the dim light the room provided. The Dark Lord smiled, pleased, as he stroked the wood tenderly. Like one might stroke a lover's cheek.

Severus watched with a bated breath as one pale and lithe arm rose with the entrancing wand in it's grip.

"Tonight," Voldemort began. "we will kill Harry Potter, and in the process we will avenge what has been lost because of this foolish war."

Cries and calls rang throughout the room as all the Death Eaters surrounded the serpentine like man who seemed to radiate power as he stood, shoulders held high as the power flowed off of him in waves.

"Tonight we will win!"

Severus could only watch, feeling adrenaline rushing through his veins as he thought about how finally after years of endless mourning, he would be able to avenge Lily.

The Potter brat would pay for his father's transgressions, of this Severus would make sure of.

* * *

"Crucio!" Severus screamed, the curse tasting like euphoria when it ripped itself out of his throat. Before him, Potter fell down, his body being wracked with tremors as he writhed, scream upon scream being ripped out of the young boy's throat.

After what felt like years but was actually only seconds, Severus released the curse, watching with sadistic pleasure as the boy fell to the floor in a boneless heap.

Severus moved forward, eyes pinned on his prey.

"Potter," he sneered, voice mocking. "Is this all you can take?"

The boy looked up, glaring vehemently at the Potions Master.

"Severus," he parroted. "Is this all you can dish out?"

Snarling, the Potions master turned a dark shade of red.

"You're just like your father," he said, twitching as rage threatened to overwhelm him. "Both of you are arrogant idiots. You both seem to think that you're good enough to talk bad in the face of Death. Don't you understand, Potter? At this moment, I'm your salvation. I can kill you or I can save you. You'd do well to remember that."

Instead of answering, Harry pushed himself from the ground and stalked forward, emerald eyes burning with hatred as he made his way to the vile man.

"You may be my salvation," he started. "But that doesn't mean that I'll give up. I'm not my father and you need to see that. The only idiot here is _you_. You're a bitter old man- someone who won't let the past be the pas-"

A hand shot out, stinging pain exploding in Harry's cheek as the boy's face shot to the side.

"You know _nothing_!" Severus hissed, swooping on Harry like a vulture would its prey. "It's _your_ fault. If Lily had never given birth to you, she would still be here! She would be _mine_ , but what's this? You're still here! Just _die_ already."

Throughout the rant, Harry watched, seemingly bored as he just stared to the side. Severus breathed heavily, his ears ringing as voices, both feminine and masculine, rang in his ears.

 _"It's your fault she never loved you, you know. You're nothing but a failure."_

 **She loved me, I know she did.**

 _"I love you, Sev!"_

 **See? Lily loves me. She understands what you don't. See Father? You know nothing of what we feel.**

 _"Hah! You think she'd love you? You're a greasy git, Snape!"_

 **I don't _think_ she loves me Potter, I _know_ she does. **

_"Sev, I'm sorry, you know that right?_

 **What are you sorry for, Lily? I'm sure it's not that big of a deal anyways. I could never be mad at you.**

 _"I'm sorry..."_

 **Wait, Lily, why are you walking away?**

 _"I think this is for the best."_

 **What do you mean?! This isn't the best! Can't you see that it's killing me?**

 _"I love him, Sev, but I don't want to hurt you."_

 **So you're breaking up with me? I fail to see how this will help me!**

 _"I'm sorry..."_

With an anguished roar, Severus launched himself with renewed vigor, tears clouding his eyes as he punched and kicked, his memoring moving more rapidly until it finally stopped. Lily, in all her beautiful glory, slumped lifelessly on the floor. Severus could remember his own frantic breathing, the overpowering scent of Death wafting into his nose as he rushed to her side.

He could remember the tears he shed, the contempt he held for the baby that sat in his crib crying noisily as Lily lay in his arms, dead.

At the very thought of her cold and lifeless body, Severus fell to the ground, knees buckling from underneath him.

His old pupil watched as the once strong man broke, years of long repressed emotions forcing their way to the surface as he wept. Harry's gaze held no loathing, contempt, or annoyance though. He simply watched, pity shining in his eyes.

When it became too much, Harry turned and walked away, allowing his old professor to retain what little dignity he had left.

* * *

AN: Don't ask... Seriously, just don't. For those who didn't understand the story line, I'll explain it here. Severus and Lily were once innocent teens in love, but Lily fell for James Potter and eventually left Severus under the guise of 'taking away his pain'. Now with Lily gone, Severus is nothing but a shell of the man he once was and he's breaking on the inside.

On that fateful Halloween night, Sev learns that Lily had been pregnant and of course seeks revenge upon finding little Harry crying as his mother lays dead in Severus' arms. In order to enact his revenge, Severus holds off and works for the Dark Lord and they blackmail Harry using his friends (although it's not shown here. It's just implied blackmail).

While torturing the young lad, Severus is forced to recount memories of Lily leaving him and is heartbroken all over again. Harry being the seemingly impossible kind hearted soul he was, allowed Severus to retain what little dignity he had left by not watching Severus self destruct. A small but kind mercy indeed.

Written for:

January Event: (Level 2) Severus/Lily

Ultimate Battle Competition - Pointed Witch Hat x2 (600 words, Death Eaters having a conversation with Voldemort.) Word Count: 1,243

Mythology Assingment 1 (Third Term): Task: Write about creating something beautiful. Feel free to take this in any way you please. Brief explanation of what I did: I took the phrase 'creating something beautiful' and used it in two ways. Number 1 as dialogue and in the second way, I used it to further sharpen the blow. Lily's and Severus' love was beautiful but in the end, it failed, driving Severus into madness. As I'm not that happy with the way it turned out, I may be submitting something different for this assignment.

Pick A Card, Any Card Challenge/Comp. - Six of hearts - Alt. Write about Severus Snape.


	55. Drabble 55: FredHarry

Drabble 55: Fred/Harry

Emotions: Happiness and Affection

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

The sun shined down upon them and Fred smiled, cuddling the green eyed boy closer to his chest.

He loved days like this; days where he could just sit back and enjoy the flow of time with his adorable little boyfriend. It made him happy and he knew that Harry loved it too. As if that were a signal of sorts, Harry's eyes fluttered open, bleary green orbs immediately seeking out his own blue ones.

"Good morning, beautiful," Fred whispered, leaning down to place a chaste kiss upon those red lips. Harry smiled into it, kissing him back just as sweetly before pulling back.

"Good morning," he mumbled, raising his hand and rubbing delicately at his eyes. At the sight, Fred wanted to coo at the cuteness of it but he refrained, knowing that Harry would most likely punch him for such a comment. Instead, he settled back in and smelled the unique scent of strawberry's as it wafted up his nose, coming from Harry himself.

"So, what are we going to do today?" The younger boy asked, lying back down on Fred's chest as the other's arm wrapped around his waist. Sighing in pure bliss, Fred opened his eyes, chuckling at the hopeful gleam that shined in his boyfriends eyes.

"Well, I was hoping that we could just lie in bed and spend the day staying in," Fred responded. Harry nodded, thrilled, and settled in closer.

"You know I love you, right?" The boy questioned. Fred smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss on Harry's forehead.

"I love you too," he whispered. Together, they fell asleep, cuddled in one another's arms.

* * *

When he awoke next, Fred gently moved Harry from his chest and went to the bathroom, letting out a satisfied sigh as his blatter was emptied.

Returning to the bed, he couldn't help but chuckle when he saw Harry sprawled out on his side of the bed, arms reaching out for the heat that had been taken away from him, and whining slightly in his throat when he couldn't find it.

Moving forward, he climbed back into bed and outright laughed when those arms immediately wrapped around his body, the boy's head coming to rest gently on his chest with a contented sigh.

Minutes passed as they laid there, Fred absently playing with Harry's hair as the boy slept.

Never before had he been so enraptured by someone, and he could admit that it did scare him a bit. He loved Harry and although the thought of something as emotional as love sent a streak of pink across his cheeks, he wouldn't deny it.

Whenever he was in the younger boy's presence, his heart would warm considerably and he couldn't help but feel wanted and wish that they could be like this all the time. He loved the innocence of their relationship and was delighted that Harry thought he was good enough to be with on a romantic level.

He knew everyone else thought that he was too childish to be in a relationship, but Harry knew different. The boy had been understanding the whole time and even told Fred that it was Harry himself who should be fortunate to been have landed with such a 'great' and 'loving' partner.

Upon, hearing that, Fred couldn't help but embrace the smaller boy, promising silently to himself that he would _never_ hurt the boy and would always be there for him.

Smiling at the memories, Fred held Harry tighter to his chest, letting himself slowly fall into a trance until he finally fell asleep, a giant grin on his features.

Unknown to him, as soon as his eyes fluttered close, green ones opened and peered up at him, warmth shining in their depths.

* * *

Prompts:

Gringotts- Various Prompts, Genre Specific - Romance - Words: Love, pink, red, hopeful, sweet, boyfriend. Plot Point: A Teenage Romance. Various Prompts, Emotions and Feelings - Delighted, fortunate, thrilled, devoted, understanding. Character Pairing Prompt: Harry/Fred.

Speed Drabble: Fred/Harry, wanted, strawberry.

Getting Around Challenge: Harry/Fred.

Ultimate Battle Comp - Accessory Set - Word Count: 694


	56. Drabble 56: LeeHermione

Drabble 55: Lee/Hermione

Emotions: Amusement

Rating: MATURE! Pick up lines used!

* * *

"So you're Hermione Granger..." Lee drawled, walking towards her and wrapping his arm around her waist. "I was wondering what Fred and George saw in you, but this...? Hmm, can't say I'm dissapointed."

Hermione blushed a delicate pink, turning around in amusement and letting her gaze run appreciatively over the fine specimen in front of her. He was utter perfection and she licked her lips upon finding the huge bulge in his pocket.

"Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" she whispered seductively. Lee grinned, a shocked laugh being ripped out of his throat.

"From what they told me, I thought you'd turn into a stuttering mess, but this? I can't really say I don't like," he replied, allowing his own gaze to travel over her curvy form.

"Are you using the Confundus Charm or are you just naturally mindblowing?"

Hermione smirked, leaning into his side and breathing shallowly against his ear.

"Want to see how mindblowing I can be?" She mumbled, licking it slowly. Lee nodded, suddenly eager as he gently guided her towards the stairs.

"How 'bout you and me go to look for the Room of Requirement?" he asked.

"Let's."

* * *

AN: GAH! I'm never doing this again! You hear me Alice?!

Written for:

Speed Drabble: Lee Jordan/Hermione Granger, perfection, amusement.

Pick Up Line Comp. No.20 - "Are you using the Confundus Charm or are you just naturally mindblowing?", No. 22- "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?", No. 14 - "How 'bout you and me go look for the Room of Requirement?"

Gringotts: The dialogue above.


	57. Drabble 57: RegulusHarry

Drabble 55: Harry/Regulus

Emotions: Affection

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

Regulus wheezed, reaching forward abruptly and pulling a glass of water to his lips. Harry watched silently, grinning a little at his boyfriend when he released a big sigh, placing the glass down with a soft click.

"Spicy?" He guessed, chuckling when Regulus nodded frantically. "I know something that can cool it down."

Regulus looked up, seeing the mischevious glint in his boyfriend's eyes and gulped.

"What is it?" He asked. Harry smiled, leaning forward and capturing his lips.

"This."

* * *

Prompts:

Level Up Comp. - Tutorial, Stage 1 - Flirty (Harry/Regulus) - Min word count: 0-125.

Hogwarts Writing Club Comp. - Prompt: Spicy - Word Count 70-130.


	58. Drabble 58: SiriusHarry

Drabble 57: Sirius/Harry

Emotions: Anger and Love

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

"Sirius," Harry whispered, coming closer and closer until his lips were a mere inch away from his Godfather's. Gray eyes bore into his own silently, a hazy cloud of lust lurking in their depths and soft yet warm lips crashed upon his.

Reaching up, Harry fisted Sirius's hair in his hands and moaned, loving the intoxicating taste that was Sirius himself. He gasped when Sirius suddenly pulled back, pushing Harry away abruptly. The cloud of desire was now gone from those gray orbs and was replaced by sadness and resignation.

"No," he mumbled. "Harry, we can't do this. You're my Godson. This is _wrong._ " Harry shook his head, stepping forward once more and making a grab at Sirius. Said man stepped back, shaking his head vigorously.

"Harry, _no_ ," he repeated, pulling away. Harry sighed, flashing angry emerald orbs at his grandfather.

"Why?" He asked. "I love you and I know you love me. Can it really be so wrong if this feels so right?" Sirius merely shook his head.

"Harry, I'm almost two decades older than you. We can't do this!" Harry shook his head, stubbornly trying to fight it.

"Sirius, I love you and I don't give a damn if society deems this wrong. You're not my blood family, merely my Godfather. There's _nothing_ wrong with this." He snarled.

Sirius simply shook his head, walking towards the door and walking out.

"You're right, you know?" Sirius asked over his shoulder. "I do love you, but I can't do this. This is wrong- no matter how much you and I want it- and I refuse to allow you to make this mistake. I'm sorry, Harry."

Left behind, Harry frowned, chest suddenly feeling empty as he watches the door, wondering if Sirius will run back in at a moments notice, bringing him into his embrace and planting a kiss on his forehead, exclaiming that this was all one sick joke.

Sirius didn't and as five minutes passed, tears began to fall, his heart feeling as if it were being crushed in his chest.

"Sirius," he mumbled. "You don't understand, do you?"

The question rang out, the tears ran faster, his body began to shake, and soon the abyss of darkness that had threatened to overwhelm him all of his life, devoured him ruthlessly.

 _I love you, even if you won't accept it._

Nothing else could be said.

* * *

Prompts:

Charms Assignment 1 - Write about a character feeling like they aren't being heard. Prompt:"You just don't understand, do you?"


	59. Drabble 59: SiriusHarryRemus

Drabble 59: Remus/Harry/Sirius

Emotions: Possessiveness and Angst

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

Darkness reigns supreme.

Around him, his own screams echo but there is nothing besides that. He can't hear his own footsteps, nor can he hear his own thoughts.

Everything's blank and it scares him.

Green eyes peer around, a hopeful glint shining in them only to be crushed almost cruelly when they see nothing. Harry wanders aimlessly around, searching desperately for a way he can escape the darkness. He finds nothing and time is speeding up.

The silence is getting to him and he falls to the ground, curling in on himself as tears silently make their way down his cheeks.

He lays there for what feels like a millenia until finally he can take it no more. He stands up, abruptly, and takes off running to the right, screaming and yelling into the darkness.

"You think you can beat me?" he bellows harshly, a bitter laugh ripping itself out of his throat. "Do you really think I'm so weak?"

No one answers, then again, he didn't expect anyone to.

He pushes himself faster, panting by this point as he continues to sprint, determined not to let himself be consumed by the all consuming darkness.

However, something's in his path and it's too late for him to stop. They collide, the only thing Harry seeing before he falls to the ground in a boneless heap, is glowing golden eyes.

"What?" Harry mumbled, picking himself up carefully. The figure he bumped into is already up, those beautiful golden eyes boring into his own.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, sounding hysterical even to his own ears. He hadn't expected anyone to actually be here!

The figure simply smirked, walking forward and eyeing Harry as if he were it's prey. Fear made itself known in his gut and Harry back up, screaming when he collided with yet another person.

Turning around slowly, green eyes met gleaming gray orbs and Harry yelped, immediately pulling himself away from the tall figure.

"You know what?" he whispered harshly. "When I called for help, I didn't mean _this_ ," he gestured wildly at the duo. "I think I'm just going to go..."

He began walking, speeding up in an attempt to get away from the two.

He didn't make it far.

Arms, long and sensual, wrapped around his waist, bringing him back brutally into their embrace.

"You're not going anywhere, love. You're ours," one of the figures cooed into his ear, the darkness around him finally bringing him into it's hold.

* * *

Written for:

Charms Assignment 2 - Write about someone feeling stuck - literally or figuratively. They must search for a way out or accept their circumstances. Word Minimum: 400. Extra Prompt: Time of Day: Evening. Note: The extra prompt was used as what comes at that time of day. In the evening we see darkness. Thus, I've included darkness.

Gringotts: Character Pairing Prompts: Harry/Sirius, Harry/Remus.

Getting Around Challenge: Sirius/Harry/Remus

Ultimate Battle Comp. - Single Accessory x2 - Word Count: 479


	60. Drabble 60: TomHarry

Drabble 60: Tom/Harry

Emotions: Possessiveness and Agitation

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead gently in self pity. Before him, Rita Skeeter stood, notepad in hand and eyes gleaming in excitement for what she was sure would be the next big story.

The blond had followed him the whole entire day, begging and demanding that he give her the next big scoop. When Harry had told her that he had nothing to give her, she had just bitched the whole entire time, yelling that the fact that he was the Dark Lord's husband should definitely give him access to all the 'juicy' gossip.

It had been eight hours since she had began bugging him, and he could practically _taste_ his migraine as it pounded viciously on his aching head.

Shoving the door to the Minister's office open, Harry walked in, immediately dropping into the lap of his husband. Curious red eyes bore into the figure on his lap and took in the scene, silently noting that Harry looked worse for wear.

Satisfied that he had cataloged all that seemed to be wrong with his husband, Tom looked up, furious red orbs taking in the scared blue one's of the reporter.

"Leave," he commanded, voice icy as he glared at her, looking every bit of the imposing leader he was. Rita simply stood there, blinking incomprehensibly at the powerful man before her.

"What?" she asked. Tom mentally commended her, her voice hadn't cracked despite the fact that she was shaking like a leaf.

"I'm asking you to move before I make you," he responded. Rita scoffed, stepping towards him and banging her hands on his desk.

"Hmph," she began snootily. "You can't make me leave if you want to keep your position. Now why don't we cut to the ch-"

A loud clatter echoed throughout Tom's office. Said man himself had a wand pointed at the imbecile before him, scarlet eyes glaring at her menacingly.

"Get out," he snarled. Rita, not needing to be told twice, ran out, her pink robes billowing behind her.

"Tom," Harry called, finally peeking an eye open to stare at his husband. Said man hummed, placing his wand back into his sleeves.

"Good night." When Tom made to say something back, he looked down, smiling softly upon hearing small little snores coming from Harry.

"Good night, brat," he whispered lovingly, finishing the paper work he had been doing before Harry barged in.

* * *

Written for:

Speed Drabble: 1 hour - Notepad, head, "I'm asking you to move before I make you."


	61. Drabble 61: HermioneHarry

Drabble 61: Hermione/Harry

Emotions: Sadness and Angst

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

Warning: Adultery

* * *

Time seemed to stop as Hermione arched her back, eyes rolling back and connecting with wide and panic filled eyes. Meanwhile, Harry gasped soundlessly, eyes beginning to water as he took in the sight before him.

Hermione was on her back, Ron thrusting wildly inside of her. The redhead seemed to be so caught up in the moment that he failed to notice that his best friend was watching them.

Hermione opened her mouth, as if to say something to Harry, but all that came out was a strangled moan as she reached her climax, brown eyes still connected with jade orbs.

At the sound, the tears finally fell and Harry turned, rushing out of the house where his girlfriend was being fucked by his best friend.

Behind him, Hermione roughly pushed the redhead off of her, getting up and struggling to get dressed.

"Ron," she hissed. "I thought you said Harry wasn't supposed to come back from his mission for two weeks."

"He was," Ron confirmed, not quite understanding what she was mad about. "He still is."

"No," Hermione corrected, pointing towards the door. "Harry was right there!"

Ron paled, a frown marring his features as he looked worriedly at the door.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" He asked. Hermione scoffed, finally placing her rainbow coloured top back on and buried her hands in her hair.

"Would you be okay if you caught your girlfriend being fucked by your best friend?" she questioned. Ron turned a deep scarlet at the blunt language and shook his head, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

"Do you think I should go check on him?" He asked after a few minutes of silence. Hermione sighed, standing up and shaking her head ruefully.

"No, I should be the one to do that. I own him that, at least." Ron nodded, sympathy shining in his eyes as the only female member of the trio walked out of the door.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione bellowed, finally finding the boy at Grimmauld place. He had moved there shortly after the war, claiming that he needed to be near Sirius in order to grieve properly. Everyone had let him, knowing that he deserved it for all of the things he had done for the Wizarding World.

Said boy was curled up in Sirius' bed, head resting on his knees as he cried, sobs violently wracking his body.

He looked so fragile and Hermione hesitated before finally reaching out, gently placing her hand on his arm. Harry recoiled though, flinching violently at the touch and peering broken emerald eyes at her.

Minutes passed as Hermione lost herself in those sorrowful eyes before finally the boy spoke.

"Hermione," he whispered, voice hoarse from crying. "Can you just tell me…why?" He sounded so small and Hermione flinched. She hadn't thought that this would hurt him so much and the guilt strongly waged war inside of her.

"Harry," she croaked. "I didn't do it to hurt you… It's just-" she cut herself off, knowing that she would sound harsh no matter how she said it but desperately trying to find away to tell him without darkening those eyes even more.

"Look," she finally sighed, sinking down next to him on the bed. "I was just so lonely with you gone on all of those missions for the Aurors and Ron- well, he was just so understanding about it all. I hadn't meant for this to happen but it did and while I know nothing I do can change that, Harry just remember that I do love you. That hasn't and never will change. I'm so sorry." She was pleading, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. Harry had to know that she was sincerely sorry.

He didn't look any happier though. He merely frowned, the tears still falling and pointed to the door.

"Can you go, please?" Harry asked and Hermione almost cried at the distant tone that laced his voice.

"Sure," she mumbled, sparing one last glance at the distraught teen before finally leaving him alone, a lone tear falling from her own eyes as regret clouded her soul.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Charms Assignment 3 - Write about someone who cheats at something. It can be a person or a game. Or anything.**

 **Getting Around Challenge: Harry/Hermione and Ron/Hermione.**


	62. Drabble 62: HermioneHarry

Drabble 62: Hermione/Harry

Emotions: Fluff

Rating: Older Teen

* * *

Thunder boomed loudly outside but no one paid heed to it. Instead, everyone's attention was on the brunette as she stalked into the room, chestnut hair flying wildly behind her as she prowled over to the Gryffindor table, eyes spitting out fire as she glared into the redhead's form.

Ginny Weasley, younger sister of Ron Weasley, was unaware of the storm heading her way and put a hand on Harry's thigh, slowly inching it higher and higher as she leaned in, breathing softly on the boy's ear.

"Harry," she purred, blue eyes shining with malicious intent. "Don't you want to-"

Before she could finish her sentence, a hand pulled hers off of Harry's thigh abruptly. Ginny turned, startled eyes connecting with blazing brown ones before a fist connected with her face.

She flew back, a suprised gasp ripping itself from her throat and hit the ground, back arching as pain assaulted her body.

"Why?" She croaked, confused. Trying to stand up, another blow was dealt to her stomach. Ginny flopped back down, a pained gasp once again escaping her.

"Don't you ever," Hermione snarled, dealing yet another hit to the panting girl. "Touch him _again."_

Ginny could say nothing in return. All she could do was curl in on herself until finally Hermione pulled away, vindictive glee gleaming in her eyes.

"Understand?"

Once she recieved a nod, Hermione calmly stode over to Harry and whispered something in his ear, chuckling when the boy perked up like an adorable puppy.

"Come along, love," she whispered and Harry didn't need to be told twice. He didn't spare the bleeding girl a glance as he followed his girlfriend out of the Great Hall.

* * *

"Was it really necessary to hit her so hard?" Harry questioned later, pressing a light kiss to Hermione's stomach and delighting in the heat that radiated softly from her warm form. Hermione merely nodded, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at her boyfriend.

"Did you want her all over you?"

"No," Harry mumbled. Hermione stilled, letting her hand trail downward until her fingers wrapped around his black locks.

Pulling his head up gently, she whispered seriously, "Would you rather have her as a mate?"

Harry looked at her, eyes going wide before he shook his head furiously.

"No," he denied, turning a little green at the thought. "I'd much rather have you as a mate."

"Good," Hermione smiled, placing a chaste kiss upon waiting lips. "I like having you as a mate as well and it's better this way."

"And why is that?" he questioned softly, reaching over to close the curtain around his bed so they could have some privacy.

"It's simple, really. If you wanted Ginny, I would have done anything to win you over."

Harry grinned.

"I rather like you when you're jealous," he whispered, love and adoration dancing in his eyes. Hermione merely scoffed.

"I don't get jealous."

"Yes, you do," Harry confirmed.

"No, I don't," Hermione denied.

"You do."

"I don't."

"You do,"

" _If_ that were the case, why don't you stop making me jealous?" Hermione asked.

"I'd have a better chance of growing a pair of wings," he retorted.

"Prat," Hermione mumbled, hitting his arm lightly. Harry grinned cheakily, earning another hit from her.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Speed Drabble - "I have more chance of growing a pair of wings,", radiate, curtain.**

 **Word Prompt Express - 359. Girlfriend**


	63. Drabble 63: HarryHarry (No Pairing)

Drabble 62: No Pairing

Emotions: Anger

Rating: Older Teen

* * *

Dark clouds covered the sky, thunder shaking the Earth harshly as lightening flashed. Screams of terror rang out but Harry did not stop. He continued, smiling viciously as his hand made a sharp cutting motion. Before him, a man fell, head rolling to the ground with a loud thump.

The screams got louder and more blood fell, bathing the world in its crimson sheen. The smell of copper heavily assaulted his senses and the moon cast a bright light upon him, wind holding the leaaves captive as they dance along to his dangerous sonata.

"Harry!" Hermione screeched, voice grating uneasily on his ears. Immediately, glowing green orbs connected with brown ones, anger shining through them as he glared at her.

"What do you want?" He snarled, stepping closer to her. The girl stepped back, fear flashing in her eyes as she attempted to back up a little more.

Harry wouldn't have that though. With a loud roar, he launched himself forward, seizing her neck in a painful grip and pressing the tip of his blade against the hollow of her throat. Hermione shook violently in his hold and her eyes struggled to stay open as fear clouded her mind.

"Don't do this," she begged, using that infuriating voice of hers. Harry growled, grip tightening to the point that she gasped, eyes closing abruptly as she tried to center herself and stop shaking. It didn't work. Instead, it infuriated him further, forcing him to throw her boldly to the ground.

"Don't assume that you know me," he whispered, voice strong. "You know nothing."

"But, I _do_ know you, Harry," she said fiercly, maintaining eye contact. "I know you so well that I know it pains you. You don't want this. No, you just want to let us know we hurt you. I promise you, Harry, that we know we hurt you and we're sorry. We're so, so, sorry. Harry, please, if there's any humanity left in you, stop this."

Harry said nothing as she spoke but by the end, he couldn't contain the snarls that forced themselves from his throat, shaking the whole world with his rage.

"It's too late to say sorry, Hermione," he mumbled, releasing her throat harshly as he pulled himself from her, eyes finally turning completely black with his rage. "I'm done."

With those words, he moved. It was so sudden, so filled with _emotions_ that the world was helpless to stop what happened next.

Magic, pure and unblemished, burst from the boy's body, his eyes flashing a deep green for what felt like forever as the thick tendrils wrapped around everyone and everything.

Screams, full of pain and sheer terror, rang out, but Harry didn't stop his onslaught. He continued, his rage and magic hurting everyone as they were touched.

After what felt like years, the screams slowly began to die in volume. Silence rang throughout the battlefield and all that was left was Harry.

The boy slid to his knees, shaking violently, and the wind seemed to grow restless, pushing and pushing against him as if to test his strength.

He was pushed back, once, then twice, before it finally stopped. Tears fell down from tightly closed eyelids and the boy slid to the ground, exhaustion taking over his mind.

"It's done," he whispered to himself, panting harshly. Emerald eyes slowly trailed upwards, following the dark clouds until it finally lay on the moon.

"I'm alone," he said, something akin to awe in his voice. "I'm well and truly alone."

Hysteria slowly made itself known within him and Harry let his gaze fall to the land around him. Blood stained everything and stray body parts lay in a dissray all over the battleground.

He curled in on himself, mania shining in his eyes as he shook, euphoria and loneliness fighting against each other in a fruitless war.

"I'm alone."

He truly was.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Rebirth of the Daily Weird Prompt Thing - KILL EVERYTHING!**

 **Word Prompt Express - 863. Struggle**


	64. Drabble 64: DracoHarry

Drabble 64: Draco/Harry

Emotions: Angst

Rating: Older Teen

* * *

"Harry," Hermione finally said, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. When she came back out, she was holding a glass of wine. Two glasses followed her, giving off a faint sparkle as magic pushed them forward.

"What you need to understand is that you're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love 'till it kills you both. You'll fight and you'll shag and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends."

Tears stained Harry's cheeks and the boy breathed in a shaky breath, palms coming to rub roughly at his eyes.  
"I love him, Hermione," Harry whispered brokenly, wincing. "I love him and it hurts to think that there is even the faintest possibility that he hates me. We fight too much as it is. What if one day, he suddenly wakes up and decides that it's not worth it? I don't think I could take it if he left!"

Leaning forward, the brunette set the glass down, motioning absent mindedly at the glasses that flew behind her so that they could sit on the table. Once that was done, she turned back to the quickly breaking teen and hugged him, rubbing comforting circles on his back as he trembled in her hold.

"Love is painful, Harry. It'll push you and make you feel things that you wished you couldn't. Do you know why so many couples stay together despite that? It's because it's worth it. Even when you think everything is hopeless and that there is nothing to believe in anymore, love will still be there. It'll cause you pain and make you want out, but once you make it through all of the tough times, you'll be happier than ever. Don't give up on Draco because you're afraid he'll leave you. Live in the present and enjoy what happiness he gives you despite the fighting." As she spoke, Hermione never stopped rubbing his back. Instead, she cuddled into him, wishing that she could give Harry the comfort that she knew he needed now.

They stayed like that, silently holding each other for awhile until Harry finally pulled back, giving Hermione a grateful smile as he wiped his eyes.

"You're right," he croaked, voice rough from all of the crying. "I'll hold on and hopefully this will be worth it in the end."

Hermione smiled encouragingly, leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek.

"Come on," she prompted. "Let's drink this champagne. Pansy said it's considered one of the best."

Harry nodded, slowly getting up and sitting in the chair next to him. Hermione was right. He couldn't back down. He loved Draco and even with the fighting, he had never been happier.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **February Event: Teamwork**

 **(Dialogue) "You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love 'till it kills you both. You'll fight and you'll shag and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends."**

 **(object) Champagne.**


	65. Drabble 65: TomHarry

Drabble 65: Tom/Harry

Emotions: Fluff

Rating: Older Teen - Mature

* * *

Harry smiled fondly, clutching the card to his chest with a bright smile. It wasn't often that his normally stoic lover, Tom Riddle, showed him affection and to get a card full of sweet nothings made Harry insanely happy. It showed him just how much his husband cared.

Don't get him wrong, though. Tom could be affectionate when he wanted to, he just didn't do it often. He had always been someone who thought that affection could be shown and given without doing something extra; that if someone truly loved another, they didn't have to rely on materialistic objects in order to show said love.

It didn't bother Harry much. He understood where his beloved was coming from given his childhood, but that didn't mean that he didn't secretly long for some days where he could just show and be shown just how much they care for one another.

Hearing the knob of the front door turning, Harry grinned, running down the stairs with purpose.

He knew exactly how he would show Tom his appreciation.

When he was done with him, Tom wouldn't know what hit him.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **(Object) Card/Love letter**

 **(Word) Affection/Affectionate**


	66. Drabble 66: TheoHarry

Drabble 66: Theo/Harry

Emotions: Fluff

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Adult content

* * *

Theodore panted, pulling back when the need for air became too much. On top of him, his boyfriend, Harry, sat, placing long and lingering kisses along his collarbone.

The Boy-Who-Lived wore a skimpy outfit, one consisting of a way too tight shirt and a very, _very_ short skirt, but he didn't seem to mind much as he focused his attention on nibbling Theo's skin and leaving dark hickies.

The blue eyed boy moaned when a particularly vicious bite was made right at the junction of shoulder and neck, arching into the skillful tongue. Hands scrambling for purchase, Theo somehow managed to pull up Harry's skirt, chuckling huskily when he came across the rather… feminine piece of clothing that covered Harry's bits.

"Lingerie, Harry?" He panted teasingly, whimpering slightly when Harry bit him in reprimand. Said boy pulled away from him, green eyes connecting with blue as he raised his eyebrow.

"Problem?" He questioned. Theodore shook his head, struggling not the groan when Harry went back to his earlier activities.

"No, in fact, I rather like them on you," he whispered huskily, pulling the fabric and watched in fascination as it rebounded back on Harry's skin when he let it go, leaving a rather satisfying shade of red behind.

"Good," Harry mumbled, pulling back once more and admiring the dark marks he left behind. "Now, why don't I show you my appreciation?"

Theodore could only smirk, mouth parting for an embarrassingly loud moan when Harry grinded down from on top of him.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?"

Well, shit.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **(Object) Lingerie**

 **(Plot/action) Leaving lipstick all over significant other's face/neck and being rudely interrupted by relative/friend.**


	67. Drabble 67: When Harry Met Blaise

Drabble 67: Blaise/Harry

Emotions: Fluff

Rating: Older Teens

* * *

The sun shined a bright orange in the vast blue sky and clouds, a beautiful and fluffy white, slowly traveled, taking their time as they watched those down below.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, walked down the street calmly, whistling a tune silently to himself. Beside him stood Hermione Granger, his best friend and the smartest witch of the century. She smiled, hair billowing brilliantly behind her as the wind gently applied pressure. Her brown eyes gleamed in obvious happiness and she would occasionally grab Harry's hand and point out entrancing flowers that sat on the side of the roads.

Harry didn't mind to be honest. He liked how carefree and tranquil Hermione was now that the war was over. No longer did the Wizarding World have to fear Voldemort's wrath and everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

Smiling when Hermione playfully swatted his arm, Harry sighed, enjoying the warm summer air.

It wasn't often that he got to just relax with his best friend.

"Harry," Hermione called and said boy opened his eyes, green meeting brown.

"Yeah?" He questioned softly. Hermione simply grinned, pointing ahead of them.

"We're here."

To be honest, Harry didn't know where 'here' was, but he didn't think it was that important to know. Hermione had told him that they were going to see a friend of hers and he trusted her not lead him straight to danger.

'Here' turned out to be a giant blue house, flowers and pots lining the walkway to the house, somehow giving everything a welcoming air in the process.

The brunette ran ahead of him, enthusiastically knocking on the door and hugging the figure that came out a minute later. Because of his angle, Harry didn't get to see the person but once Hermione moved back, he blushed, cheeks turning a bright coral pink.

The man before him was handsome. Dark brown hair lay atop the figure's head in a simple yet entrancing way, framing a nice and round face perfectly. Indigo eyes peered out at him, closing briefly as the figure blinked in surprise.

"Potter?" The man asked, somehow managing to make his name sound like silk. Harry startled, smiling sheepishly as he realized that he had been caught staring.

"Yep, Harry Potter, at your service," he greeted, bowing slightly in greeting. The man smirked, amused, and walked ahead, letting the bright light of the sun bathe him in its bright sheen.

"Blaise Zabini," he stated confidently. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Harry smiled, nodding his head and returning the sentiments. From there, Hermione took over, talking to the man for around twenty minutes about S.P.E.W, her house elf program, and when they finally finished, the man flashed Harry a bright grin.

"I look forward to seeing you again," he offered, watching as Harry was pulled by Hermione down the walkway.

"As do I," Harry returned. Then they were leaving, Harry feeling those piercing eyes on his back until they were out of sight.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, flushing a little in embarrassment.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Can we come back again?" He questioned. Hermione turned to him, grinning triumphantly and raised her arms above her head in happiness.

"You like him, don't you?"

The witch didn't even need for Harry to respond. The telltale flush of his cheeks told her all that she needed to know.

"Oh, sweetie," she purred. "We'll be back every day from now on."

True to her word, they came back and Harry is proud to say that he and Blaise have been happily married for twelve years now.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **(Color) Coral Pink**

 **(Title) When {insert name} met {insert name}**


	68. Drabble 68: SeverusHarry

**Drabble 68 - Severus/Harry**

 **Emotions: Angst and Love**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

Harry sighed, eyes following the older man lazily. Severus Snape, double agent and war hero, would never look at him. Harry knew this very well. What he couldn't figure out is that if he knew this as well as he knew he did, why couldn't he get over this pathetic crush already?

He had been stuck staying in the shadows, sighing and longing for something that he knew would never happened.

He had to give up on this, he told himself, but whenever he made eye contact with Severus, it took everything within him not to run over to the man and hug him, begging and pleading for him to spare Harry the time of day.

It was painful and tiresome, yet Harry could never bring himself to stop. Not when he didn't know if there was the slimmest possibility of Severus returning the feelings that he had.

Sighing again, this time in agitation, Harry stood up, taking small yet brisk strides towards the man in question as he ate his dinner.

Severus looked up when Harry's shadow fell over him and nodded politely, gesturing towards the seat next to him.

Ah, here was yet another thing that drove Harry crazy. Ever since the war, Severus had taken it upon himself to get to know Harry for who he was rather than who his father, James Potter, was.

Now, don't get him wrong, Harry had no problem with this. No, he had a problem for Severus being so nice - well, nice for _him_ anyway - and not being allowed to touch him. It was pure torture and not for the first time, Harry groaned, cursing himself for allowing this fascination to turn into him being so lovesick.

Smiling at the man, Harry sat down, immediately beginning to make a plate from the food the house elves so kindly placed on the teacher's table.

As he worked, he made sure not to look towards the Potions Master, knowing that if he did, he would most likely lose himself in the man's gaze. Luckily for him, Severus didn't seem to feel inclined to strike up a conversation.

They sat in silence, each eating their meals. Harry waved at a staring student every once in awhile, but other than that, he stayed within his own mind, acutely aware of the sexy presence right next to him.

Upon finishing his meal, he got up at the same time as Severus and was just about to make his way out, when a hand wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from moving forward.

"Harry," Severus called. Harry paused, groaning mentally at the beautiful voice and turned around, intent on showing Severus that he was listening.

Said man hummed, looking towards the students nonchalantly. He said nothing for a few minutes and just as Harry was about to leave, he spoke.

"Come to my office at 9," he commanded, smirking slightly at the gobsmacked look that covered Harry's face.

"Oh, come on, Potter," he playfully sneered, making a face of disdain. "Do show a little decorum at the table. Haven't the mutts taught you manners?"

Bewildered, Harry looked at the man, blushing softly at the challenge that lingered in those eyes. Then a bulb went off in his head and Harry smirked as well, leaning forward and winking at his ex-professor.

"Well of course, Severus," he purred. If Severus wanted to play with him then Harry would play back. "I'd be absolutely delighted to come see you."

Winking once more to add to the effect, Harry's smirked morphed into a grin and he sauntered away, well aware of the eyes that followed him.

Maybe Severus _did_ have feelings for him.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **25\. (Word) Lovesick and 39. (Emotion/Feeling) Challenged.**

 **Word Count: 624**


	69. Drabble 69: ZachariasHarry

**Drabble 69 - Zacharias/Harry**

 **Emotions: Love**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

"What's that, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering over her friends shoulder in order to get a better look at the lavender envelope.

Harry blushed, wordlessly handing the little card to Hermione and watching as her face morphed into one of shock.

"Oh my," she whispered to herself, cheeks blushing at the quite… well, _graphic_ letter.

"Do you know who gave this to you?" She questioned, looking in Harry's direction but refusing to look him in the eyes. Harry merely shook his head, sighing softly.

"It's not that I'm not flattered, but… I didn't even know the body could be so flexible!" He exclaimed, eyes trailing towards the letter once more. Hermione hummed, still blushing.

"Oh, trust me," she purred, suddenly feeling rather confident. "Your body will definitely surprise you."

Looking at the rather perverted look in his friend's eyes, Harry decided not to question her. He didn't want to know what Ron and her got up to at night.

"It is quite nice to know that someone wants me," he mumbled to himself. He didn't mind the letter, honestly. It was just that someone seemed to have gotten a _little_ hot and bothered while they wrote it. He admired the sentiment and if he was being totally honest with himself, Harry wouldn't deny the fact that some of the suggestions in the letter had gotten him hard.

"What are you going to do when you find out who sent it?" Hermione asked, smiling at the slight upturn of Harry's mouth. Said boy, hummed, looking towards the Hufflepuff table and allowed his gaze to rest on a certain blonde haired boy.

Should he get his hopes up?

"Well," he began, voice soft. "If it's who I think it is, I'll have no problem returning their affections."

Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"And who do you think it's from?" she questioned. Harry smiled softly, beckoning her closer and whispered something in her ear. Hermione gasped before squealing in happiness.

"Him?" She whispered furiously. Harry nodded, watching as Hermione's eyes automatically sought out the guy in question.

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, looking at Zacharias with curiosity. "I hope you can find a way to tell, Ron."

Harry groaned.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **1\. (Plot/Action) Receiving a card/gift from a secret admirer.**

 **30\. (Color) Lavender**

 **Word Count: 375**


	70. Drabble 70: CormacHarry

**Drabble 70 - Cormac/Harry**

 **Emotions: Love**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

"Hello, love," Cormac greeted, pressing a chaste kiss upon Harry's lips before going to his own seat.

They were at Besos, a hispanic restaurant that really dabbled in everything when it came to foods. It was the perfect place to celebrate their 10 year anniversary.

Lights, bright in some places yet dim when appropriate, lined the walls, casting a slightly romantic air in the room. The actual ceiling was very dark and had stars all over, each one glowing softly and twinkling at the customers at random intervals.

The servers all wore a dark navy blue top with sparkles and black skinny jeans, adding to the night time air that enveloped the room.

A playful moon lit up the room in the corner and Harry was happy to say that he loved the atmosphere that everything managed to create. His beloved husband looked particularly dashing across from him. His blonde hair, normally somewhat tamed, lay wildly on his head, adding a sexy air around him especially when coupled with the suit he wore. The first two buttons of his white button down shirt were undone, exposing a somewhat modest yet drool worthy amount of skin.

He was gorgeous and Harry was ecstatic that this beautiful creature decided that he wanted to spend his life with Harry. Sometimes, there relationship felt like it was right out of a movie. Even with the occasional argument, he wouldn't give this up for the world.

Green eyes, lighter than his own but no less intense, stared into his, leaving Harry breathless as the slight chatter of the other customers faded away, leaving just Harry and Cormac in their wake.

"I have something for you," Cormac announced, voice loud in the sudden silence.

"Really?" Harry asked, excitement coloring his tone. This night was getting better and better.

Cormac laughed, nodding and reaching into his pocket. With a smile and a nervous chuckle, he passed a black box towards Harry, watching silently as Harry slowly opened it.

At first, Harry couldn't comprehend what was in front of him but when he could, green eyes immediately snapped to the other in disbelief.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Coco," he whispered, his husband's nickname rolling effortlessly off of his tongue. Cormac smiled, obviously knowing that this meant that his husband liked it.

"It is," he said, as if reading Harry's thoughts. Harry gaped at him, elation warring with disbelief but eventually winning. Breaking out with a giant grin, he stood up, walking towards his husband and turned around, lightly placing the beautiful necklace in his husband's hands.

Cormac smiled, gently taking it from him and placing it around his boyfriend's neck. Harry fingered the pendant, smiling softly and turned around, laying a passionate kiss on his husband's lips.

"You know that I love you, right?" He questioned. Cormac chuckled, nodding.

"I love you, too."

Smiling stupidly, Harry sat back down, the beautiful diamond necklace with a Forever Yours pendant laying around his neck, their initials engraved in black on the back.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **5\. (Plot/Action) Having a necklace put around your neck.**

 **42\. (Feeling/Emotion) Elation**

 **Word Count: 515**


	71. Drabble 71: DeanHarry

**Drabble 71 - Dean/Harry**

 **Emotions: Love**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Sexual content mentioned.**

* * *

"Dean," Harry purred, lightly running his hand down his boyfriend's chest. Said boy sighed, pouring every ounce of his will towards denying Harry.

They had been playing this game for hours and Dean was determined to win.

He would _not_ under any circumstances miss the double date with Hermione and Bellatrix. As the only gay and lesbian couples in their town, they were determined to tell the world to 'suck it' by going utterly wild every Friday and Saturday night.

Harry, however, didn't want to go this week. No, instead his attention was focused on more… _pleasurable_ things. He was feeling particularly frisky at the moment and he wanted to relieve himself of the feeling using his gorgeous boyfriend, Dean.

To make matters even worse, it was Valentine's Day, one of the most important and love filled days of the year. It was practically their _job_ to go to the club and show that gay love was an okay love as well.

Dean knew how bummed Hermione and Bellatrix would be and although, Bella and 'Mione did the same thing to them numerous times, he couldn't help but feel guilt stirring in his chest.

Looking down at his partner, Dean was just about to tell him that, when he saw Harry pouting, giving Dean his best bitch face with his hand moving progressively lower.

It traced Dean's abs only to go lower, and lower, and lower…

 _Gosh_ , Dean needed to stop this.

But… Ooh… That felt really good.

Maybe he could keep this going for a little while longer and see where the nig- _No, bad Dean_ , he internally chastised himself. _We promised Bella and 'Mione we'd be there and I'm not breaking our promise. Harry can wait until the end of the night. Then, I'll have absolutely no problem screwing him seven ways to Sunday._

 _He could do this,_ Dean told himself. _They_ could do this.

Sensing the change in his lover, Harry decided to play dirty.

He purred, green eyes turning hazy and gave Dean _that_ look. The look that always said, 'you have five seconds to get over here and fuck me. If you don't, I'll just impale myself on your big, hot-'

 _No, look away, Dean!_

Seeing that look, Dean didn't stand a chance.

 _Sorry, Bella, sorry, 'Mione, but I have one sexy boyfriend to fuck. You'll have to wait awhile._

And wait they did. If they giggled on the dance floor as they imagined their favorite gay couple finally giving into their desire, no one mentioned it.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **36\. (Feeling/Emotion) Frisky**

 **51\. (Restriction) Must take place on Valentine's Day.**


	72. Drabble 72: NevilleHarry

**Drabble 72: Neville/Harry**

 **Emotions: Love and Irritation**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Sexual content mentioned.**

* * *

If there was one thing Neville Longbottom hated after the war was over, it was the continuous torture that the press decided to give the war heroes.

His boyfriend, the Boy-Who-Lived himself, was forced to deal with them and normally Neville wouldn't have a problem with that. However, when it got to the point that he had literally not seen his boyfriend in a _month_ , Neville became ticked off.

He tried to be understanding, he really did. After all, Harry did just save thousands of people, but even _he_ had a boiling point and unfortunately for the reporters, they had definitely reached it.

Harry was his and he'd be _damned_ if they thought that they could monopolize all of his time.

Marching over to the fireplace, Neville yelled out "Grimmuald Place" and was off, black robes billowing angrily behind him.

Wiping the soot off of himself, Neville took a moment to look around, the familiar room around him managing to calm him slightly. He could sense Harry in the house and went upstairs, smiling softly when he found the other teenager in his room.

"Harry," he called gently. Said boy turned around, a bright smile lighting up his features when he saw him. Standing up, Harry rushed from his spot at the closet, clothes thrown haphazardly on the ground, and tackled Neville. Reaching an arm out to grasp the wall behind him, Neville managed to stop them from falling, but he didn't manage to stop Harry from pressing their lips together in a heated kiss.

Groaning, he allowed himself to loose himself in it. All of the pent up feelings of love and stress welled up inside of him and he put everything into it. Smiling, he placed one last chaste kiss upon Harry's lips and pulled back, laughing lightly at the small whine that ripped itself from Harry's throat.

"I missed you," he mumbled, lacing their fingers together. Harry smiled, leaning against him and catching his breath.

"Missed you, too," he returned. "I wanted to punch every single reporter that kept me away from you."

Neville grinned, pleased with Harry's answer.

"Don't worry, love," he assured. "They won't keep you away from me anymore. You're mine."

"Don't you forget it either," Harry demanded, giggling despite himself when Neville thumped his ear.

"Oi!" he exclaimed. "I make the demands in this relationship."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said, patting Neville on the chest and looking at him, pity shining in his eyes. At that, the other teen chuckled.

"You need help," Neville stated before guiding Harry back to the closet. "Get dressed. I want to take you out on a proper date. It's been way too long since we've done anything together."

Harry smiled and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, shooing him away when Neville tried to turn it into more.

"Go!" he commanded, turning back to face the closet. "If this is a date, we're going to do it right. I want to stun you with how fancy I can look."

"Love, with that birds nest you call your hair, you'll never look fancy," Neville remarked, chuckling when a pair of pants hit him square in the face. Raising his arms above his head in surrender, he backed away.

"Oh and love?" he questioned, looking at Harry over his shoulder. Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Your arse looks utterly fabulous in those jeans."

The sound of Harry's shocked laughter ringing in the air followed Neville into the living room.

* * *

Happiness and contentment rushed through his veins as he climaxed, body arching and trembling within his Dom's hold.

This was pure bliss.

Within Neville's arms, he lost himself to the euphoria clouding his mind. He was pushed and shoved gently into his sub space and within it, he had nothing to worry about. For the first time in a long time, he finally felt free.

Neville didn't bother him either. Instead, the older teen spooned him from behind, offering Harry his warmth and support as he made his journey.

He didn't come down for hours and when he finally did, he smiled, bliss and triumph clouding his mind when those arms tightened around him.

Their relationship was a weird one but it was one he would never give up for the world.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Transfiguration Assignment 5 - Write about the objectification of someone. *I kind of want to explain where my mind went with this. Well, in a Dom/Sub AU! (not BDSM, mind you), the Sub is sometimes (not all of the time) considered an 'object' by other "Dom's". Their "Dom" owns them in a sense and they are their property. In here, I wanted to set the scene of it all without subjecting our "Sub", Harry, into a role where he's being bothered by other Dom's. Instead, he's with his Dom and he feels comfortable being owned by another. In fact, it gives him safety. Thus, I wrote this in a fluffy way so we could see the possessive and protective side of Neville along with the submissive yet sometimes fiesty side of Harry. I hope that helps clear up any confusion. ;)**

 **March Word Count. Word Count of this fic: 723. Word Count I'm trying to reach: 32,500. Words left: 31,777.**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank - March: Various Prompts - Genre: Romance - (Words) Love and Date. Various Prompts: Secret Diary of A Call Girl -Episode 1: Jeans - Episode 2: Possessive - Episode 4: Dominant.**

 **Getting Around Challenge: Neville/Harry**

 **Writing Club! Word Prompt Express - 216. Demand**


	73. Drabble 73: HermioneRon

**Drabble 73: Hermione/Ron**

 **Emotions: Nervousness**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

"So, _you're_ the boy who wants to steal my daughter away from me," Mrs. Granger remarked, glaring at Ron. Said boy shifted in his seat, eyes trained on a rather interesting crack in the cieling. This, in turn, seemed to fuel Mrs. Granger's rage even more.

"Well?" She questioned. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Ron, sensing the impending doom that could befall him should he say the wrong thing, looked to Hermione, only to slump in his seat even more when she simply raised her eyebrow.

Coughing lightly, he deduced that this was a challenge he'd have to face on his own.

"Well, Mrs. Granger," he began, layering his voice with over the top sweetness. He stopped, however, when her glare became even more icy. "I love your daughter-"

"What do you love about her?" She cut in. Ron froze, knowing that this question was a mindfield.

"I love that she's smart," he began slowly, trying his best to determine her reaction to his words. "I love that she's one of the kindest people I've met, and I love that she can put up with me and all that I am."

Ron didn't know if he imagined it, but her gaze seemed to soften for a second.

"Do you think you're worthy of my daughter?" She asked.

"No," he immediately replied, no hesitation to be found. At this, Mrs. Granger looked impossibly closer into his eyes, scrutinizing him for a long minute before finally stopping. She smiled warmly at him for the first time in his visit.

"You, Ronald Weasley, will be an excellent match for my daughter," she declared. Besides her, Hermione smiled brightly, giving Ron a thumbs up.

"I knew he'd pass your test," she remarked, sticking her tongue out. Mrs. Granger huffed, seemingly dissapointed as she slumped into her seat.

"And here I was hoping to have some fun with a jerk," she mumbled, sulking. Hermione chuckled while Mr. Granger, who had been silently watching the proceedings, smiled warmly at her.

"Don't worry, dear," he cut in. "If Ronald doesn't work out, I'm sure you'll have plenty of fun with the next lad."

The excitement that showed on her face scared Ron more than anything ever had before.

"Do me a favor?" She questioned, looking at him with malevolance. "Mess up."

Right then and there, Ron decided to save the next poor lad the terror and promised to himself that he'd _never ever_ mess up.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **March Event: Mother's Day Challenge - Mrs. Granger/Ron - 70 Points**

 **March Word Count - 411 - Words So Far: 1134 - Amount to Go: 31,366.**

 **Writing Club! Word Prompt Express - 893. Take**


	74. Drabble 74: JamesSirius and JamesLily

**Drabble 73: James/Sirius and James/Lily (Mentioned)**

 **Emotions: Amusement and Pity.**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

Euphemia Potter was not a fool.

She _knew_ that when her beautiful and precious son went on to say just how great and perfect Lily Evans was, he was just entertaining himself with something that was impossible.

Of course, that wasn't to say that he didn't love Lily- he really did, but that wasn't the problem. No, he loved her as a potential _friend_ and it was sad that he himself didn't realize that.

James would go on about how he was envious of how smart she was and how well she did in class, or about how she told a funny joke to her friends and it somehow went around the rumor mill and got back to him, but not _once_ did he comment on how pretty she was.

Oh, and she _was_ pretty with her long crimson locks that shined when the light hit it just right. She was even prettier when those emerald jewels she called eyes lit up with faux innocence. Oh, Lily was _very_ pretty and it amused her greatly that James was blind to her beauty.

It was even funnier though when it came to how James spoke about his best friend, Sirius. He always managed to casually bring the teen up in conversations and would comment on how his 'beautiful and gorgeous' friend had snagged yet another girl or more recently, another boy. He would even go so far as to say that it was 'impossible for any person in their right mind to deny Sirius' charm.'

It was adorable but it wasn't healthy. Her son shouldn't focus so much of his attention on Lily when he was so obviously captivated by Sirius.

This went on for months and Euphemia was just about to say something when she caught Sirius sending a smouldering stare towards her son, eyes looking down his body with heat and adoration. From that gaze alone, Euphemia smirked, turning around. Then, she looked her wide eyed husband dead in the eyes, showing him what she was thinking wordlessly. It was good, she supposed, that he had caught the look as well. Now, she wouldn't have to waste precious time explaining things to her adorably innocent husband.

Fleumont, sensing what his wife was thinking, looked back to Sirius and his clueless son in pity. He knew his wife well enough to know that when she got that love-stuck look in her eye, she would try _everything_ in order to make it happen.

 _Poor, James_ , he mourned. _He doesn't even know that he's released the beast._

Meanwhile, James continued to talk excitedly with Remus, oblivious to the devious plans that his mother had in stored.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **March Mother's Day Event - Euphemia/James - 100 Points.**

 **March Word Count - 444. New Total: 1578. Left to Go: 30,922.**

 **Word Prompt Express: 644 - Pretty**


	75. Drabble 75: JamesLily

**Drabble 75: James/Lily**

 **Emotions: Frustrated Anger (which sometimes leads to saying things you don't mean) and Disdain.**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

Euphemia stared at Lily, disdain etched onto her features. Her husband, Fleumont, stood next to her, one arm around his wife's waist protectively. Lily, meanwhile, stood across from them, James to her left with his arm wrapped around her waist.

The two females stared each other down, one with dislike, the other with frustrated confusion.

"What do you mean I can't go out with James?" Lily asked, glaring at her. Euphemia merely raised her eyebrow, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"It sounds exactly as I phrased it," she remarked, irritation coloring her words. "You aren't allowed to go out with my son."

"Oh, really?" Lily challenged. "And what makes you think you could stop me?"

"Well," Euphemia began, a small and utterly wicked smile gracing her features. "For starters, I can hold you under the cruciatus for hours and wait for you to decide to conform to my wishes."

Lily shook her head and smiled smugly.

"That's an unforgivable, Miss," she stated, smiling deviously. Euphemia, however, looked unimpressed.

"What makes you think I won't use it on you though? You know my mother was a Black, right? We're fiercly loyal for those we love. I'd have no problem casting thousands of unforgivable curses on you, little girl."

At that, Lily seemed to shrink into herself before her eyes lit up with ferocious passion.

"Why can't you see that we love each other? Why can't you support us?" She asked. "Oh, wait. I remember now! You are the same person who gave her child up to her own mother because you decided to be a little slu-"

Lily was not expecting the hand that connected with her cheek, leaving a bright red bruise.

"Don't you _ever_ say that again, Lily!" Euphemia snarled, cheeks red and tears leaking from her eyes. Lily, stunned that Euphemia used her first name rather than 'little girl' or 'Evans', paused and looked up at the increasingly distressed woman.

"Do you know why I left my adorable little boy?" She asked, ignoring Fleumont as he tried to bring her within his embrace. "I left him because I couldn't stand to see the child of the man who hurt me; the child of the man who went to the cruelest of methods in order to capture me for himself. Do you know what it's like to be bound and helpless, tortured and raped every moment of every day? Do you know what it's like to finally be free after killing your captor only to find out that you're pregnant with the man's son?!"

With every question, Euphemia's voice grew shriller and shriller until it was a piercingly loud cry.

"No, you don't, so just shut up!" She demanded. Fleumont, having had enough of this, pulled his wife with him, forcing her out of the room so he could comfort her. Behind them, James and Lily stood, each breathing shallowly, eyes wide, as they tried to process the fact that the strong and normally icy Euphemia had broke down in front of their very eyes.

"James..." Lily breathed after a few moments of silence, looking at the boy beside her. "I'm so, so sorry. I... I-I didn't know."

James, however, wouldn't look at her, causing Lily to grow pale with worry.

"J-James?" she asked shakily, reaching out to touch his shoulder. When her hand was an inch away, he jerked back, as if struck. He looked up, hazel eyes connecting with green, and shook his head.

"I don't think I can do this," he whispered, beginning to walk towards the direction his mother left out of. Lily, knowing what he was about to do, tried to grab him again only to watch in misery as he ran away from her.

Now alone, she fell to the ground, tears falling from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered aloud, trembling violently. Her hands clenched and unclenched and her breathing grew uneven as hysteria set in.

"I-I didn't know... James, please, don't leave me..."

No one was around to hear her pleads.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **March Mother's Day Event - Euphemia/Lily - 100 Points.**

 **March Word Count - 671 . New Total: 2249. Left to Go: 30251.**

 **Word Prompt Express: 818. Son**

 **Herbology - Assignment 5 - Task: Write about someone feeling constricted by people or situations around them.**


	76. Drabble 76: OrionWalburga

**Drabble 76: Regulus/Harry**

 **Emotions: Hope and Hatred**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

A young Regulus watched silently as his fuming brother left the house, slamming the door with an explosive curse. Before him, his mother stood, staring at the door with pain in her eyes.

"Mommy?" he asked, looking at her in confusion.

"Yes, Regulus?" she questioned, eyes trained on the door as if she were expecting Sirius to come back in any moment.

"He'll be back, right?"

"Yes, darling. Sirius is a Black. He can't escape us even if he tried." She sounded so sure that Regulus paused, looking at her with pity shining within his gray eyes.

"Are you sure, Mom?" At the question, Walburga looked back at him, expression softening. Coming closer to him, she scooped him up in her arms, pinching his nose gently.

"Of course, I am. Come on, Daddy Orion, will be home soon and you still need a bath!" she exclaimed, face scrunching up adorably as she fanned her nose. Regulus giggled, forgetting all about Sirius.

* * *

A teenage Regulus sat on his bed in his room, hands pressing against his ears as he desperatly tried to block out the yelling come from the other room.

"Why can't you be like Regulus?" his mother yelled, screeching.

"What? Be under your nasty control and become an icky Black in everything that matters? I don't think so!" Sirius yelled back, just as fiercly.

A loud smack echoed throughout the house, causing Regulus to cringe. The sound of a door closing loudly along with the sound of sobs floated to his room and without his knowledge, Regulus was walking down the corridors, peaking into the living room hesitantly.

On the floor, his mother sat, hands clutching at her face as she trembled.

"He can't leave..." she mumbled to herself, shivering at the very thought. "He can't leave me..."

Feeling saddness well up in his heart, Regulus walked over to his mother and hugged her, feeling her arms wrap around him as well.

"I'll never leave you, Mom," he promised, his own tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. Walburga said nothing. She merely held on tighter, grief threatning to take over.

* * *

When Sirius finally left for good, Regulus was glad to see him go. His mother stood firm, watching him leave with carefully veiled eyes. Her head was held high and she said nothing against it. She merely smiled at him warmly when Sirius turned to face her for the last time. Regulus could remember the last words she said to Sirius as clear as day.

"When you come back, I'll welcome you with open arms. Don't ever think that I don't love you, Sirius. I'll see you soon, okay?" Sirius said nothing to her. He simply raised his eyebrow and spat on the ground.

"I'll never come back to this cursed place," he vowed, ignoring the pain that clearly passed through her eyes. "Goodbye... Walburga."

That hurt more than he would possibly ever know.

As Regulus tended to his emotionally distraught mother whose mask had cracked as soon as Sirius apparated, he told himself that he would make Sirius pay for that. He'd make him pay for hurting their mother.

* * *

Regulus paused, looking at his younger lover with pain shining in his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to hear the rest?" he asked, eyeing Harry with a fown. Harry nodded, placing a comforting hand on top of Regulus' own.

"I want to learn everything about you. The good things as well as the bad. This is apart of you and I want to know. Please?" He asked. Regulus smiled softly, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Well, then..."

* * *

Years later, when Regulus was a full fledged Death Eater, he immersed himself into his role. He killed, he tortured, he destroyed, he conquered, and he kept at it, knowing that Sirius was going to hate him more and more each day.

When it came time to hold the Dark Lord's Horcrux, he made a deal with Voldemort. He'd hold onto the locket and make it look as if he'd destroyed it, and in exchange, he got to live in the shadows and Voldemort would help him get revenge.

To be honest, he liked it. In the shadows, everyone thought he was dead and it felt as if a secret was being kept. The secret lasted for years and years. In the meantime, Sirius was tried as the murderer of James and Lily Potter, causing vindictive glee to ignite in Regulus' heart. When he was finally released and lived a year of happiness, Regulus felt that it was time.

With the Dark Lord's help, it was almost too easy. Sirius was reckless and they followed him one night, stupefying him when he least expected it. Taking his body back to base, they tortured him for weeks, relishing in his broken screams.

They had Death Eaters and werewolfs alike come and rape him, shedding his blood and causing to whimper so prettily for them. They cut him, they bruised him, and they used him, shredding every last bit of his dignity.

When he was finally on the verge of breaking, they released him, taking him to Walburga's grave sight and buried him alive, forever intertwining both mother and child.

Sirius promised that he'd never go back but now...? Now, he was trapped with her for eternity.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **March Mother's Day Event - Walburga/Sirius - 50 Points.**

 **March Word Count - 890 - New Total: 3139 . Left to Go: 29,361.**

 **Word Prompt Express: 93. Brother**


	77. Drabble 77: HermioneHarry

**Drabble 77: Hermione x Harry**

 **Emotions: Self Loathing and Care**

 **Rating: Older Teen - Mature**

* * *

"What's wrong, love?" Harry asked, bringing his hand up to run it through Hermione's brown locks. Said girl frowned, pulling away from him abruptly.

"Don't do that," she chastised. This time, Harry frowned.

"Why wouldn't I?" he questioned. Hermione shook her head.

"Just don't, okay?"

Harry, not satisfied, stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulder, looking her dead in the eye.

"Seriously, what's wrong?"

Hermione didn't answer. She merely looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. They stayed like that; Harry demanding an answer silently with his heavy gaze and Hermione refusing to give one, looking to the side in stubbornness.

Finally sighing, Harry pulled back slowly, eyes still trained on Hermione.

"You know that you can trust me, right?"

Cringing, Hermione nodded, but she didn't look at him. "Well, then," he began and she could detect the small tremor of his voice. "Feel free to come to me, if you want to talk."

Again, she nodded, mouth glued shut.

Harry, taking one last glance at her, turned around and walked out the door, the sound of it closing echoing in the sharp silence.

"You know you should tell him, right?"

Hermione jumped, hand moving reflexively to her heart. Spinning on her heel, she glared at Lavender.

"Shut up."

"Make me," the other girl commanded. Hermione opened her mouth, ready to retort, only to close it.

"You wouldn't understand," she finally settled on. Lavender sneered.

"What, that you're afraid to tell him that you think you're ugly?"

Hermione cringed at the rather blunt phrasing but she nodded all the same. The other girl gave her a dull stare, one of her eyebrows arched perfectly in disbelief.

"Do you _seriously_ think that I haven't been there?"

Sensing that this was a trap, Hermione stayed silent, embarrassment welling in her heart at Lavender's question.

"Look," the younger girl drawled, getting up from her position on the bed to join Hermione in front of hers. She pulled the bookworm's hands within her own and looked her right in the eyes, her own little jewels of ice boring into cracked chocolate orbs.

"You're pretty."

Hermione shook her head. Lavender reached up and grasped her chin within her own smaller hand, gaze never relenting.

"You are pretty."

Again, Hermione shook her head, her brown eyes welling up with tears. Lavender stopped it mid-shake.

"You. Are. Pretty."

Each word was enunciated with her getting closer and closer until they were a breath apart, each of their eyes locked on the others. That was all it took.

Like a dam being broke, tears leaked from Hermione's eyes, her face turning a bright red as mortification, shame, and embarrassment all rolled into one.

Lavender didn't let her fall alone either. The younger girl pulled her closer and cuddled her, hand rubbing small circles on her back. She whispered sweet nothings in her ears, telling her that it was okay and that she was as pretty as can be.

They stayed like that, each other's arms wrapped around one another. It was warm and comfortable and Hermione found herself not wanting to leave. However, even she knew that she had to go. Reluctantly pulling away, she sniffed, eyeing the wet fabric that was Lavender's shirt with apologetic eyes. The younger girl merely shook her head.

"It's worth it."

While Hermione didn't know what she meant, she nodded.

"Thank you."

Never before had she uttered sincerer words. Lavender nodded, a small smile making itself known on her face.

"You're worth it."

Rather than replying verbally, Hermione grinned and headed to the door and sent a wink over her shoulder. When she closed it, she didn't hesitate. She made the trek to Harry's room and later, when she was wrapped up in Harry's arms, she smiled, contentment running through her veins.

 _'You. Are. Pretty.'_

Maybe she was.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Candy from the Trolley - Wrapped Caramel - Write about someone who can't make up their mind.**

 **April Word Count - 647**

 **Deck of Cards - Write about someone being obsessed with their looks.**


	78. Drabble 78: RonHarry

**Drabble 78: Ron/Harry**

 **Emotions: Desperate and affection.**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Rape, Possession, and darkness.**

* * *

 _ **Bloody Rose**_

 _ **By Firediva0**_

* * *

Insolence of the highest degree, that's what this was. Ron glared at the opposing figure before him, his eyes practically spitting fire. The other man continued to talk, oblivious to the threat on his life, and gestured slightly with his hands, a small smirk on his lips when he caught sight of the other boy's intrigued face.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was in the process of talking to Blaise Zabini, yet another slimy Slytherin as far as Ron was concerned. His black hair lay in its usual disarray and his green eyes glowed softly, entrancing Ron with their ethereal glow even from where he stood across the room. The expression on Harry's face was one of extreme curiosity and a dash of contentment and the smile that adorned his lips whenever the other Slytherin made a joke had Ron seething.

It should be him who made Harry smile so much! Harry was his. Blaise could off himself for all he cared. Glaring even more viciously at the other man, Ron could of swore that he saw the indigo gaze connect with his own, a shit eating grin beginning to curl on the edges of the quiet Slytherin's lips.

Ron growled, back straightening, as his blood lust grew even more. Harry, oblivious, continued to talk, not knowing of the raging storm that was on its way to him.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Ginny said, lightly running her hand through her flaming red hair. Ron watched, disinterested.

"I didn't know, I swear," she continued. Ron sighed. This was getting on his bloody nerves. All he wanted to do at the moment was crawl inside of his bed and stay there, Harry preferably cuddled within his arms.

"It's okay," he assured. Ginny shook her head.

"No, Ron, it's not okay. I should have known that she would have done this."

Ron, tuning his sister out, looked to the side. He truly didn't care that Hermione had fallen in love with the Malfoy brat. He was only mad because the little bitch didn't take into account how her cheating would reflect on him. After all, what must Harry think? What, that Ron was such a lousy lover that even his perfect little girlfriend had to cheat?

That just wouldn't do. A growl built up in his throat and Ginny paused, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Did you just…?" She trailed off. Ron, however, wasn't in the mood for anymore of her incessant chatter. He merely got up and walked away, ignoring the burning stare against his back.

* * *

The next day, in transfiguration, Ron sat next to Harry, the stupidest grin lighting up on his face when he smelt the familiar scent that only belonged to his beloved.

He could feel Hermione's curious gaze on his face but he ignored her, anger still coursing through his veins when he thought about how the little bitch had made him seem bad in front of Harry. Ron still couldn't erase the pitying look Harry had sent him from his mind. The boy shouldn't pity him. No, instead he should be joyous. He should celebrate the fact that Ron was free again and ready to own him. Of course, Ron reasoned silently to himself, Harry didn't know that he was ready to possess him but that was okay.

In time, he would woo his best friend and show him that they were meant to be. When that time came, there would be no more Blaise Zabini. Harry would know his place and would please Ron just like Ron would please him.

One day, it would happen and if it helped that day come sooner, Ron would put up with the love filled looks Harry and Zabini sent each other.

 _All in due time,_ he reminded himself.

That didn't change the fact that his table now had claw marks and his nails were a bloody mess.

* * *

All Ron saw was red. His blood was pumping through his veins, and his heart thumped against his chest.

Before him, Harry and Zabini stood. Harry, _his_ Harry, stood with his back against the wall, hands furiously gripping the other's robes as he pulled him closer, the nonexistent space between them seemingly not good enough. Zabini, on the other hand, had Harry's hands pinned to the rough concrete of the wall, his tongue forcing its way through the other's mouth.

Ron watched.

And watched.

And watched…

Then, promptly screamed, launching himself forward and pulling Zabini away from _his_ property. He didn't waste any time, either. He pulled his fist back, smiling cruelly when a satisfying crunch originated from Zabini's jaw.

He was yelling but even Ron couldn't understand what he was saying. All that mattered was getting this filth away from his best friend. He didn't stop. Instead, he relished in the blood that steadily stained his hands, his own cackles echoing throughout the hallway. He could have continued if it weren't for the cries coming from behind him. Pausing, mid punch, he looked back, blue eyes connecting with watery green.

"Let him go, Ron," Harry begged, pulling against his robes. While normally, Ron would question why Harry wasn't hitting him, Ron knew that the only reason he wasn't fighting was because he still cared for Ron. Despite himself, a stupid grin made its way across his face and he stepped back, allowing Zabini to fall from his hold and hit the floor.

Harry sniffed, smiling at him gratefully and ran towards Zabini, intent on checking his wounds. Ron let him, his mind focused on the fact that even if he beat Zabini up, Harry would still care for him.

"Interesting," he mused silently to himself. Harry was too caught up in his concern to hear him. Smiling wickedly, Ron walked away, the sounds of Harry's small sniffs like music to his ears.

Interesting, indeed.

* * *

Ron clutched the photo of Harry and his new boyfriend, Zabini, to his chest, his eyes a raging blue storm. He ran to the dormitory, uninterested in the murmurings of his fellow Gryffindor's as he practically bolted to his bed, locking and silencing the curtains with spells so other's wouldn't know of what he was going to do.

Viciously, he tore the photo, hysterical chuckles pouring out of his mouth. It lay in tatters before him, the once smiling faces of the couple now looking sad without their other parts. Ron didn't care. Instead, he was joyous of that.

Harry was not and never would be Zabini's. The green eyed minx was his and he felt as if it were time for the other boy to learn this.

Calming himself down, Ron pulled himself together, picking up a torn piece of Harry's face so he could look upon the still glowing emerald eyes of the teen.

"Oh yes," he purred, aloud. "It's time for you to learn who you truly belong to."

Zabini would never see him coming.

* * *

"Blaise," Draco called, peering at his best friend nervously. The other boy paused, indigo eyes coming into contact with gleaming silver.

"What is it?"

"It's Potter," he responded. Blaise stiffened. The last time they had spoken about his boyfriend, they had fought viciously.

"What about him?" Blaise questioned, voice cold. Draco, sensing the dangerous territory he was in, raised his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not here to badger you," he mumbled. "I'm here to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

Blaise fixed him with an intrigued stare.

"Weasley," the blonde whispered. Blaise laughed, the sound mocking.

"What could he possibly do to me besides hitting me?" he inquired. Draco sneered at him.

"If you're not going to take this seriously, I'm wasting my time," he snapped. Blaise sighed, realizing how serious the other was.

"What is it, Draco?" he asked, voice noticeably softer. The blonde shot him a grateful look.

"The way the Weasel has been staring at Potter recently makes me nervous. Be careful, okay?"

Blaise nodded, mind flashing back to the incident in the common room when he and Harry had been talking. The red head had looked as if he wanted to kill him.

Draco, satisfied, turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Blaise to stare at his previously occupied space thoughtfully.

Maybe, he'd take Draco's advice to heart. After all, what's the worst that could happen?

* * *

Harry screamed, his voice scratching uneasily on his own ears. He was pushed into the walls, hot hands racing up and down his body.

Ron stood before him, an affectionate and slightly dopey grin on his face.

"It's okay," the red head soothed, placing a chaste kiss on Harry's neck. "I'm just making sure you know who you belong to."

Harry groaned in pain when the other boy nipped harshly on his neck, shaking his head at the absurd claim.

"Ron, stop," he demanded. The other boy didn't listen. Before he could stop it, Harry was turned around, his jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles. It was then that Harry realized where this was going and he turned an ashen white, staring at Ron in horror. He began to fight, harder this time, little screams and cries of terror tearing themselves from his throat.

"Ow!" he yelped, wincing when a spit lubed finger pressed at his entrance. The other boy merely purred, nuzzling his freckled cheek along Harry's back.

"Let me hear you scream," he commanded huskily, pushing his finger in deeper and more harshly. Harry screamed just as instructed, tears welling up within his eyes.

Ron wasn't going to rape him, right? This was just a joke. A very bad one, if he was honest, but maybe this was how best friend's treated each other? As Ron's added another finger and roughly prepared him, something in Harry told him that, no, this wasn't at all how friends treated each other.

That's when it happened. Something big, long, and hard was pressed against his entrance, applying pressure incessantly. At once, Harry screamed louder than he ever had, pain seeming to come from everywhere, ripping him apart and enveloping him in its horrible hold.

Meanwhile. Ron continued to place little nips and bites on his shoulders and back, whispering in his ear what a good little boy he was and that, after all this time, Harry finally knew that he belonged to him.

"Don't worry, precious," the red head soothed. "I'll never let you go. Zabini can't have you."

Something told Harry that Ron had never said truer words.

* * *

For the first time in what felt like forever, Ron was happy. He had gotten Harry! Over the course of the month following their lovemaking, Harry ignored Zabini, walking the other way. Of course, at the beginning, he had tried to ignore him as well but Ron… Well, he had more _pleasurable_ means of keeping Harry in line. The boy had been resilient but Ron had trained him well. No longer did Harry try to fight him.

Instead he sought him out, allowing himself to be owned and protected by Ron The feeling it inspired within Ron's heart was amazing. Never before had he felt so happy and now, he was even more intent on keeping that happiness.

"Blaise," Draco mumbled, watching as his friend moved restlessly across their room, hands grabbing anything within sight. The other boy looked at him, a half crazed look in his eyes.

"He took him," the other boy returned, as if that were all that needed to be said. Draco frowned.

"What are you going to do?"

"Why, I'm going to get him back of course."

Draco gave him an incredulous stare and reached out, intent on keeping Blaise from doing something stupid. However, before he could react, the brown haired boy was already running towards the door, delirious hope shining within his eyes.

"Harry's mine. I'll be damned if Weasley thinks he'll take him from me."

Then he was gone, the slight smell of vanilla left in his wake.

* * *

Harry watched, helpless, as Ron and Blaise fought each other, punches flying and spells being casted at an extremely harmful speed. Ron and he had just been on their way to the Great Hall when his ex appeared from nowhere, a murderous glare aimed at Ron.

Instead of cowering, the redhead grinned, pulling his wand out with confidence. They had been fighting for ten minutes and Harry had tried in vain to stop it. It seemed that they were completely oblivious to their surroundings.

Feeling months or pent up stress and emotions beginning to well up inside him, he gripped his hair, unaware of the fact that he was glowing softly, his wand unconsciously already in his hand. Again, Ron and Blaise ignored him and Harry had a feeling that if it weren't for the loud crack of magic in the air, they'd have kept ignoring him. However, he couldn't focus on that. His head hurt and things were beginning to look blurry...

The last thing he saw before the darkness around him overwhelmed him was Ron's face, a canvas filled with fury and dark possession. It was then that the reality of his situation fully hit him.

When Ron referred to owning him, he hadn't meant in terms of body. He meant in _every_ way. He wanted Harry's everything. At first, the green eyed boy had thought he meant that he was just jealous of Blaise and wanted Harry's body. Now he could see the problem, though. Ron saw Blaise as an _enemy_ and as the fight showed him, Ron had no intention of losing.

Stuff was about to go down.

Despite his shocking realization, he was still enveloped in the darkness around him.

* * *

Upon waking up, Harry took one look into Ron's eyes and cursed, nodding to himself in resignation, realizing that he had been right.

Closing his eyes, he allowed sleep to reclaim him, knowing that some twisted part of Ron would keep him safe. A lone tear trailed down his cheek.

He knew that he had to let the red head keep his hold on him. To the other, Blaise was an enemy. No longer could he allow himself to hang out with him and he already knew that even if he left Ron now, he'd just end up alone in fear of endangering everyone's life.

With a heavy heart, he dozed, feeling just as trapped as he had when he had first found out about the prophecy.

" _Neither can live while the other survives."_

Was this what that meant?

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Owls Examinations - Charms - Write about a possessive love. Extra Prompts: Photograph of a couple and Jealousy. Candy from the Trolley - Sour Rind Watermelon 1 - Write about a nice person in a bad situation.**

 **April Word Count - 2411**


	79. Drabble 79: TomBellatrix - I Own You

**Title: Descent Into Madness**

 **Rated: T**

 **Note: This fic is an Alternate Universe in which Andromeda does not exist and Tom Riddle attends Hogwarts in the same era as Bellatrix and Narcissa.  
**

 ** **Submission:** Round 1 Wimbourne Wasps Keeper - (Summarized) Write about a familial relationship. Whether angst be involved or not is up to you. Chosen Death ****Eater: Bellatrix Lestrange.**

* * *

Contrary to the popular belief, I used to be kind. There had once been a time that I cared for the well being of others. Now, though, that time has come to an end. For all I care, everyone can die a slow and painful death. Never again will I allow myself to fall into the pit of despair I had once succumbed to.

My name is Bellatrix Black, and this is my story.

* * *

My sister, Narcissa, and I were outside, playing in the garden beside the manor. She was beautiful with her long blonde hair that flew in the wind and her gorgeous blue eyes that seemed to look into the very depths of one's soul. She grabbed my hand and twirled me around, a gleeful smile on her face as we played. We ran and we jumped, using up all the energy two energetic girls like us were prone to have given our young age. Soon, night came and our mother called us in, her voice a silky caress upon our eardrums.

Our mother was like a goddess to us. We loved her fiercely and as soon as we heard her lovely voice, we were ensnared by her. Immediately, we ran to her, stopping when we were only a mere inch away, and smiled. For a moment, we could see the fondness in her gaze. Then, she hid it away. We didn't mind. After all, our mother was a Black. Emotions were not things she could show freely. The only reason Narcissa and I got away with it was because we were still children in their eyes. I knew that as we grew older, we'd have to shed our innocent naivety. That was fine with me. If Mom could do it, I could as well.

"It's time for dinner," Mom noted. My sister and I nodded, walking into the house and made our way up the stairs, intent on going to our room. We didn't waste any time either. As soon as the room was in sight, we parted - Narcissa going to the bathroom to wash up and me going to the bedroom to choose my dinnertime attire.

As it turned out, I didn't have to. A beautiful silk dress lay on the bed, its black sequence gleaming in the bright light the room provided. Immediately, I ran to it, a squeal of delight ripping itself out of my throat.  
A cough sounded and I turned, a bright smile on my face when I saw my mother at the door, a small grin on her features.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed. She nodded, the upper corner of her lip lifting before it fell once more, her usual stoic look masking her happiness.

I turned away, knowing that she would leave on her own, and ran to the bathroom. I pounded on the door, giggling when Narcissa yelled at me from behind it.

"Come on, Narci!" I complained, the nickname rolling effortlessly off of my tongue. She seemed to ignore me, however, for she stayed in there for a while before finally coming out, her blonde hair done up in an elegant bun and a blue dress clinging onto her body. I smiled, twirling my finger, and immediately Narcissa acted, body spinning around in a large circle.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. Narcissa blushed and thanked me, moving past me so she could go pick out her jewelry. I watched her for a moment, fondness pushing itself to the forefront of my brain, before I finally moved, knowing that should I be late to dinner, mother would have my head. I headed into the bathroom, a faint grin on my features as I hopped into the bathtub, turning the knob so that the warm water would cascade like a waterfall onto me. I washed and washed, scrubbing the dirt aggressively before I finally gave up, toweling myself dry and hunting down my dress. I put it on, stumbling a little when it came to buttoning it up. However, when I finally had the buttons done, I turned and looked into the mirror, gasping at what I found.

The black dress went to my knees, clinging to my body and highlighting what little curves I had. My hair, still wet, was wild, falling down my shoulders in big rings and curls. It was beautiful in its own right, I decided. This look somehow fit me.

"Bella!"

Hearing Narci calling my name, I ran out of the bathroom, not knowing that in the distant future, something would be coming.

* * *

"Bella," someone cooed, whining slightly. I sighed, pushing myself further into my hiding place. Tom Riddle, the brilliant arse he was, smiled to himself, walking through the corridors as if he owned the place. In a way, he did, and that fact irritated me more than I'd have liked to admit.

"Come on, Bells," he called, amusement now evident in his tone. "You'll never escape me."

I snorted. Leave it to the narcissistic bastard to think such a thing.

"I know where you are."

What was this, a bad muggle movie? Sighing silently in aggravation, I was surprised when his face was suddenly inches away from mine, his cool minty breath wafting up my nose and his dark gray eyes boring into mine with a horrifying intensity.

"Found you."

Without preamble, I pushed him back and took a step forward, yelping in shock. He stumbled but quickly recovered, pushing himself forward so he could trap me in the little alcove I had been hiding in.

"You're not going anywhere," he commanded. I scoffed.

"Really?" I asked, eyebrow raised. "And who's going to stop me?"

"Me."

I laughed loudly, curling my hands around my stomach.

"Gosh, you're funny," I commented, tears of mirth sliding down my cheeks. He stared at me, gobsmacked, before straightening and growling low in his throat.

"When are you going to give up this ridiculous game?"

Immediately, I stopped laughing, looking him right in the eye.

"This isn't a game," I informed, voice flat. "I'm never going to join you."

His eyes sparkled with mischief and warning bells went off in my head; I ignored them.

"Oh?" he questioned, a small grin lighting up his features. "What if I told you that I could make you?"

At this, I stepped forward, willingly allowing myself to step into his space. My eyes never left his and I tensed, a snarl leaving my lips.

"You can't make me do anything."

This time, he laughed, the sound light and cold. It grated on my ears and left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"What if I told you…"

He leaned in, whispering the rest in my ear. I froze. When he fell silent, I slowly looked up, my heart pounding against my rib cage.

"You wouldn't," I breathed. His grin grew larger; more teeth being bared as he smiled cruelly down at me.

"Oh, sweetie," he purred, tone mocking. "I already have."

* * *

"Bella?" Narcissa asked, looking at me with concern. I brushed her off and pushed past her, ignoring the calls coming from behind me. She sounded wounded at my blatant disregard but I forced myself to push it aside. I didn't trust myself not to lash out. As soon as our room was in sight, I forced the door open and gathered my things, tears streaming down my face. By nightfall, all of my possessions were in another room on the other side of the manor. I heard Narcissa's small cries as she slept in front of my door, begging me to move back in. I ignored her, pushing the despair that threatened to devour me mercilessly back.

* * *

 _"What if I told you that your beloved sister was on my side?"_

 _I shook my head._

 _"She's not," I stated confidently. However, his unwavering grin made my heart thump in my chest, anxiousness suddenly setting in._

 _"But she is," he breathed. "She also has the hots for Lucius. You remember him, don't you?"_

 _I nodded numbly, knowing exactly where he was going with this._

 _"He belongs to me, Bella, and thanks to that, if I were to suddenly issue a demand for him to bring her to me… He would."_

 _I stopped breathing._

 _"If I were to tell him to hurt her… Well, I think we both know what that would lead to."_

 _I lashed out, fist connecting with the soft tissue of his face. He didn't move an inch but his grin grew larger. I turned then, knowing that I had to leave or else I would lose my cool even more._

 _"Remember, Bella," he called. "I own you!"_

 _The words echoed ominously in my ears._

* * *

"Mom?" I called hesitantly, walking into her bedroom. I have never been so glad that it was the Yuletide season. I just couldn't take this anymore. She turned from her desk, her wizened features lightening up just a little when she saw me.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you for some advice?"

She nodded so I moved forward, sitting next to her on the bed.

"I have a friend arguing with another friend, who is blackmailing her," I began, watching my mother's features carefully. However, she hid them too well. Her lips were in a tight line, eyes betraying nothing that she might be thinking. "The guy told her that he will hurt someone very dear to her if she doesn't do what he says."

A flash passed through her eyes only to leave as quickly as it came.

"Should the girl do what he says in order to save the person dear to her?"

My mother was quiet for a long while and I was just about to apologize and leave when she moved, her normally emotionless eyes erupting with them.

"Oh, dear," she mumbled, voice wavering. I stared at her, stunned. Never before had I seen her look so wrecked. Her eyes became suspiciously blurry for a moment and she wrapped her arms around me, clutching me to her bosom.

"Bellatrix," she whispered. I jumped at the use of my full name. "Tell this friend of yours to do what she has to do. Let her know that it's okay to follow her heart."

I looked at her, hoping she would elaborate, but she didn't. Instead, she smiled at me and mouthed good luck before pulling me up from the bed and pushing me out of the room. I stared at the door, disbelief flowing through my veins before I sighed, heading back to my room, now knowing that this was something I'd have to decide on my own.

* * *

"So," Tom purred, gray eyes alight with vindictive glee. "Have you come to a decision?"

I nodded, a smirk of my own coming to my features.

"I have," I began slowly, looking to the side as if contemplating. "I won't join your cause."

My smirk grew wider at his wide eyes and I turned, already halfway down the hall when I heard him scream.

"You'll regret this, Black! I'm going to utterly destroy you."

I cackled on my way to my dormitory.

* * *

I stared at Narcissa, mouth open in a silent scream, as she fell to the ground, blood trailing behind her and out into the dungeons. Several students rushed up, running to her side, but I couldn't move. All I could do was stare, tears burning in my eyes as my sister lay in front of me, chest barely moving.

"Narci?" I questioned softly. She didn't respond and the students became more panicked. I took a step forward, numb.

"Narci?" I called again.

A weak gasp sounded.

"B-b-bells?"

I ran to her, the book I had been reading long forgotten. The students immediately moved out of my way as I dropped to my knees and cradled her to me, demanding that someone go get Madam Pomfrey.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered repeatedly. The door opened and I looked up, ice cold water running through my veins when I looked into those vindictive gray eyes.

"Bella?" Tom asked innocently, a fake frown across his features. "What's wrong with Narcissa?"

Something snapped inside of me. I lurched forward, teeth bared and nails sailing through the air wildly. I had just reached him when Slughorn's arms wrapped around my body, Madam Pomfrey behind him with a worried frown. Slughorn whispered into my ear that things were going to be okay but I tuned him out, glaring ferociously at the grinning boy beside me.

"I own you," he mouthed. If it weren't for Slughorn's iron grip on my hips, I would have killed him.

* * *

That scare, if anything, steeled my resolve. I decided that it was too dangerous to play his game and continued to rebel, determined to protect Narcissa. I failed. In our seventh year, Narcissa died. Her body had been found in the Forbidden Forest and she had been supposedly mauled to death by the creatures in said forest. All around me, people apologized profusely, commenting on how she was too young to have died. My own mother looked at me, sadness clouding her gaze. I couldn't face her. I knew that she knew that the advice I had sought was real. She didn't confront me, though. She merely smiled sadly and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead.  
I couldn't look her in the eye after that.

* * *

Tom didn't let up in his threats and soon, I found myself caving in to his demands. I couldn't lose my mother nor could I lose my father. Sadly, luck wasn't on my side. My father died a year later from Dragon Pox, leaving me and my mom to fend for ourselves.  
I didn't fight Tom. Instead, I fell further and further into the overwhelming darkness and lost sight of everything I once was. Now, as I stood looking my own mother in the eyes, I smiled sadly, whispering apologies profusely into the nighttime air around us. She didn't answer nor did she look angry. Instead, she gazed upon me with despair, her normally inexpressive face marred with emotion.

"Bella," she mumbled. I ignored her and echoed the fateful words, watching silently and numbly as she fell to the ground, lifeless eyes boring into my form, a loan tear falling down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," I apologized once more. No one heard me and, like a fallen angel, I fell even further. Behind me, Tom stood, arms open. I ran into them, the tears falling. He smiled, patting my head.

"It's okay, precious," he soothed. I sniffed. "With me, you'll never feel pain again."

I nodded, no longer caring about anything. I didn't want to feel anymore and if Tom could take that away, then I'd do anything.

"You're mine."

I didn't reject it.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch League - Round 1 - Keeper**

 **April Event - Wordcount - 2,483 Words.**

 **Herbology Assignment 8 - Write about someone who has to make a decision about something good and evil. Also, include their struggle with this choice. Extra Prompts Used: (taste) Bitter and (emotion) indecisive.**


	80. (80) Special One-shot - TomHarry

**Title: The Big Bang**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Pairing: Voldemort x Harry**

 **Warnings: Alternate take on the books.**

 **Summary: Rather than having Voldemort attempt to kill him, Harry is taken in by his enemy and taught things beyond his wildest imagination. Each week, a new subject would be taught and this week was no different. However, with new feelings growing besides the platonic ones, will Harry be able to survive seeing Voldemort so passionate when he describes the creation of our world?**

 **Authors Note: Wimbourne Wasps Keeper's submission for round 2 of the Quidditch League. Subject: Astronomy. Task: Write about a student's relationship with their teacher. Word Count: 1293.**

* * *

Lord Voldemort, one of the most powerful Dark Lords to exist. Humans and creatures alike feared him; they were terrified of him, yet respected his power.  
To be truthful, Harry couldn't fathom why people would be afraid of the man. Sure, he killed, but then again, who didn't? People killed other people everyday using words. Contrary to popular belief, that was one of the harshest ways to kill a person. With that taken into account, why was Voldemort so badly feared? He was blunt when it came to killing; feelings and the like were meddlesome in his eyes. Once he decided to kill you, you would die, and he didn't allow you to misunderstand his intentions. Once he caught you in his web, you were dead and you knew it.

Looking at the other man, who was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, Harry frowned. Lord Voldemort was a mere act, played by Tom Riddle himself. The snake-faced man was nothing compared to Tom. The older wizard, unlike his snake-like counterpart, was intelligent and used that intelligence to get what he desired. When he was in that state, nothing, not even a prophecy foretold by Cassandra Trelawney herself, could stop him from getting what he wanted.

His black hair reached his shoulders, one particularly stubborn strand falling into his eyes every now and then. The blood red eyes of Voldemort were gone; the spell that changed them to become inhuman and fierce had long since dissolved. Instead, soft yet calculating gray eyes took their place, boring into Harry's green ones with startling intensity.

"Harry, are you even listening?" he asked, his voice silky and smooth. Harry paused before nodding.

"Then, repeat what I just said."

Harry's silence was enough of an answer.

"Look," Tom sighed, placing the book that had been in his hands, down onto the table. "I'm teaching you this because, as my heir, you need to know these things. As much as it pains me to say this; the Muggles were right when it came to teaching this to their children. To know how the universe was created, and to understand the stars are important for the understanding of magic and the world we live in."

Harry pouted.

"But it's so boring," he whined. Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously and Harry gulped, having been on the receiving end of that stare far too many times to count. He knew what it meant.

"There is nothing boring when it comes to power," the older man scolded. Harry said nothing, knowing that his mentor was not done.

"Now, explain the creation of the universe," he was commanded. After opening his mouth to protest, Harry abruptly closed it upon seeing Tom's glare. He nodded.

"Well," he began. "In the beginning, there was a very small part of space that made up the universe."

Tom gestured for him to continue.

"Alright, well, after a large explosion, that space began to expand rapidly and with that expansion, several things were created."

"Name them."

It was a demand, not a request.

"Well, there was matter, anti-matter, energy, and…"

"And?" Tom prompted, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Uh, chocolate?" Harry guessed. Tom, exasperated, lightly slapped him upside the head.

"Really, Harry, chocolate?" he asked. Harry nodded, unrepentant.

"Tom, we've been in here for hours! I'm starving!"

The other man shook his head, fondness warring with irritation.

"Go eat," he ordered, waving at the door in dismissal. Harry didn't need to be told twice. Getting up, he ran towards it, the sound of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter as he bolted down the corridors.

Behind him, Tom eyed the door, a weird gleam in his eye.

* * *

Later, Harry sat in his room by himself, looking through his window and out into the garden he had planted himself. He remembered when Voldemort had sat him down and explained what he had done to him on that fateful Halloween night.

Apparently, upon hearing the prophecy, Voldemort saw right through it. Instead of killing the baby that was destined to kill him otherwise, he went to go get him, killing Lily and James when they dared to try and stop him. Harry could clearly remember the way Tom had spoken. The man had obviously not cared about their deaths. In his eyes, they were mere casualties of war and he didn't deem them worthy of feeling excessive sorrow for.

In a way, Harry could understand that. They had all known what they were getting into when they had decided to fight in the war. Death was inevitable. He would admit that it hurt when Tom said that he wasn't his parent, though. At times, Harry felt as if he didn't belong with the other, but Tom had quickly erased those feelings. The man cherished him like a partner rather than a son. Not once did he attempt to hide or dumb down something for Harry, and it was times like those that Harry truly appreciated him.

Over time, the paternal image that Harry had once had when it came to Tom was destroyed, being replaced by that of a friend. However, the time for the friendly image that Tom represented was coming to a close as well.

Feeling a blush burning on his cheeks, Harry looked down, squinting at the bracelet that covered his wrist. It was made out of diamond and had a pendant of a small snake dangling from it. On the back of the snake, the words _"Knowledge breeds power"_ were etched onto it, reminding him fondly of Tom every time he gazed down at it.

Tom had given it to him on his eleventh birthday. He had finally perfected the Cruciatus curse, and Tom had been so proud that he had swept Harry up into his arms and swung him around. It had been one of the happiest moments of Harry's life. Later that night, he had presented Harry with the bracelet, an uncharacteristic blush on his face as he simply handed it over and fled.

To others, it would have seemed like a small gift - certainly nothing to obsess over. To Harry, though, it was so much more. This showed him that Tom cared for him on a far deeper level than he did for his Death Eaters. It brought a warm feeling to his heart. Smiling stupidly to himself, Harry crawled under his covers and closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into sleep's embrace.

* * *

"There are three types of stars; sun-like stars and medium or large st- Wait, what are you doing?!" Harry panicked, taking a step backwards.

Tom smirked, reminiscent of a shark as he studied the boy before him.

"Nothing," he said, a twinge of amusement to his words.

"Can you back up, please?" Harry asked, eyeing the little space between them pleadingly. Tom merely shook his head.

"No," Harry groaned.

"Why?" he questioned.

"Because, Harry," Tom began, "if I'm not close to you, then I can't do this…"

He suddenly leaned in, his lips barely grazing Harry's own in a chaste kiss. When he pulled back, he eyed the blush on Harry's face in amusement.

"I quite like that color on you," Tom mused quietly, reaching up to poke Harry's cheek and watching in amusement as it turned a deeper shade of pink under his touch.

"Eep!" Harry's yelp echoed across the manor, Tom's laughter accompanying it.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch League (See top of story for more info).**

 **April Fan-fiction Writing Month - 1293.**


	81. Drabble 81: DeanHarry

**Drabble 81: Dean/Harry**

 **Emotions: Happiness and budding affection.**

 **Rating: Teen  
**

* * *

Dean walked along the grounds of Hogwarts, eyes trailing almost lazily about as he made his way towards the Black Lake.

Upon reaching it, he paused, eyes going wide when he saw the figure who sat beside it, kneeling precariously along the edge. The boy's eyes bore into the water's surface, as if he were glaring at it. The black mop of hair on his head swayed softly in the wind, somehow managing to look endearing rather than horrible.

The black robe the boy wore was a little too big for his small frame but Dean couldn't focus on that. No, instead his gaze unwillingly focused on the lightning bolt etched onto the boy's forehead.

"Hello," a silky voice uttered, the sound a brilliant caress to Dean's ears. Immediately, green and black eyes connected, a light blush overcoming Dean's face when the eyes continued to hold his own.

"U-uh," he stuttered, heart beating rapidly in his chest. The other, seeming to notice his predicament, smiled, his whole entire face lighting up with the action.

"I'm Harry," the beautiful boy introduced, standing up from his place besides the lake and making his way towards Dean. Dean smiled shakily, willing his heart to slow down before it beat out of his chest. It didn't.

Extending his hand, he said, "My name's Dean."

"It's nice to meet you, Dean," Harry said, the smile on his face seeming to become wider. A slight patch of pink began to make itself known on his cheeks.

"The pleasure's all mine."

If anything, Harry's blush became more pronounced. At that, Dean's heart, still beating furiously, calmed down just a little, the sight of a slightly flustered Harry appealing to him greatly.

"Well," Harry began after a while, a small grin beginning to curl around his lips. "I have to go, but I'd love to see you again."

Inwardly, Dean twirled around, fist pumping the air excitedly. However, on the outside, he merely smiled.

"How about you and I go out next Hogsmeade weekend? Just the two of us?"

"It's a date."

The two both blushed at the words but neither tried to take them back.

"See you," Harry said, waving before walking away. When the black haired boy was out of sight, Dean jumped.

"Yes!" he screamed. A few students who were passing by looked at him oddly but Dean couldn't even bring himself to care. He had scored himself a date with Harry!

As he made his way to the dorms, the bright grin never left his face.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 422**

 **Weekly Character Appreciation Challenge - Week 1 - Dean Thomas.**


	82. Drabble 82: DracoHarry

**Drabble 82: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter**

 **Emotions: Angst**

 **Rating: Teen  
**

* * *

The silence is maddening.

I'm sitting at the table, head laying on the cool surface and greedily absorbing its cold temperature. Hermione sits beside me, lightly tapping her nails against the pristine glass. The clock echoes in the room, further enhancing the silence around us.

I want to scream and thrash, begging for the never-ending silence to stop, but I don't. I sit there, the frown on my face steadily drooping further.

Tick.

Tok.

Tick.

Tok.

"Hermione."

Said girl doesn't even flinch.

"Yes, Harry?" she asks.

"Let's go somewhere."

Immediately, I can feel her eyes on me yet I force myself not to sit up from my slouched position.

"Where?" she questions cautiously. I sigh silently, rolling my eyes.

"Relax," I say. She huffs.

"Shut up, I'm just worried."

"What for?" I reply. I can practically feel her glare now.

"You know what."

I do, but I'm forcing myself to forget. As of now, Draco Malfoy does not exist.

"Anyways," I say, changing the topic. "Let's go see a movie or something."

"No," she immediately says. This time, I sigh loudly, finally giving in and sitting up. I glare at her, delighting in the small flinch she unwillingly gives.

"If you're waiting for me to cry, then you'll be waiting forever."

She stares at me, not saying anything. I want to yell at her for that, but I don't. Logically, I can understand why she's worried. However, I'm still hurting and because of that, I don't give a damn why she's worried. I just want her to agree with me just this once.

"But, Harry," she begins after a long while. "You loved him and-"

"Hermione, I love you, but if you don't shut the fuck up-"

"What will you do, Harry?" she interrupts, her brown eyebrow arched in question. I say nothing. It was an empty threat and she knew it.

"Look," I continue, irritation rising within me. "Draco bloody Malfoy is a prat. We all know this. Yes, he broke my heart and peed on it but I'm over it."

She stared at me, pity shining within her brown eyes. I loathe it.

"Are you, Harry?" she asks. I stare at her, nodding dumbfounded. Hermione gets up, heading towards shelf, and pulls out a mirror. She comes back and puts it right in my face.

"Look at you," she sneers. "You're a mess."

She's right. I have dark bags under my eyes and my clothes are too big for me. It seems that, without me noticing, I had lost a lot of weight. It's sad though because I never had much to begin with. Rather than admitting this, I stare at her in determination.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I protest stubbornly.

To be honest, I wasn't prepared for the fist that suddenly streaked through the air and connected with my face. I yelped, the sound loud in the sudden silence that engulfs the room. Hermione stares at me, tears within her eyes.

"Fuck you," she sneers and then she's gone, rushing out of the door. I wonder briefly if I'll ever see her again. She had looked so angry.

Reaching up to cup my sore cheek, I stand and pick up the mirror that she had precariously thrown on the table. A big red spot now occupies the left side of my face. Sighing in annoyance, I click my tongue loudly.

Heading to the bathroom, I fish a toffee bar out of my pocket and stick it in my mouth, practically moaning at the taste. God, whoever made toffee was a genius!

When I reached the bathroom, I wasted no time in getting out of my clothes and into the shower. It was then and only then that I allowed my carefully built walls to fall, the tears rushing out like a waterfall.

I hiccuped and screamed, pounding against the walls of the shower in anger yet no one came to see if I was okay. Of course, I hadn't expected anyone to but the very thought increased the loneliness inside of me tenfold. I cursed Draco bloody Malfoy over and over again and cursed myself for falling for someone so freaking horrible.

It was there, in the shower, that I finally broke, sliding down the tiled walls and falling to my bum in cold, dark agony.

Love is stupid. Then again, I am just as stupid for falling in love.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 734**

 **TriWizard Maze Challenge - Prompts Used: Cry, Mirror, and Toffee.**


	83. Drabble 83: Harry Potter

**Drabble 83: Harry Potter**

 **Emotions: Content and anger.**

 **Rating: Teen  
**

* * *

"Dance with me," Blaise insisted, tugging at my waist. I stared at him, willing the fiery anger that clouded my mind to calm into a cool wave. It didn't.

"Let go of me," I snarled. He didn't listen. Instead, he continued tugging, this time sliding an around my shoulders and pressing me closer to him.

Deciding that I've had enough, I pulled away sharply, glaring at him with a frigid coldness that would have had Voldemort running for the hills.

"Come near me again, and I will kill you," I threatened. He stared at me, as if having an internal battle with himself, before he nodded, slowly backing away from me. When he was finally gone, I sighed, smiling faintly when Hermione came waltzing up to me.

"What are you smiling for?" she questioned. "Weren't you just angry because of Zabini?"

I huffed at the reminder but then smiled.

"I was," I began. "But then, I was reminded just how content I am to be single. I was able to turn him down so coldly. Hell, for a second, I thought he peed his pants!"

Hermione giggled before extending her arm.

"In that case, why don't we dance?"

Laughing, I looped her arm with mine.

"I'd love to."

Throughout the night, the smile never left my face. Around Hermione, I could just be myself and I loved it.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 228**

 **Raise A Witch or Wizard Contest - Month 1 - Single Parent**


	84. Drabble 84: TomHarry

**Drabble 84: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter**

 **Emotions: Romance, angst, deception.**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

 _He's mine forever,  
Trapped by my heart,  
Bound by my devotion,  
Never to part._

* * *

Gray eyes bore into mine, darkness lingering within their inky depths. Draco nods and keeps talking, each word falling upon deaf ears. I watch his lips move, each syllable he speaks being carefully pronounced.

Even then, I understand and my heart grows heavy. After a while, he turns and panic grips me. I push myself forward, almost tripping in my haste to get to him.

"Draco!"

I'm screaming yet he doesn't turn. He keeps moving away, nothing but fog being left in his wake. Soon he's gone and I'm alone, the gray clouds around me coming closer and closer, threatening to suffocate me with their depth.

My screams still echo around me, each one sounding more broken than the last, and I run aimlessly through the heavy fog, wishing and wishing that Draco will come back to me.

He doesn't and I fall to the ground, tears falling down my face. Draco's gone and I instinctively know that he's not coming back.

* * *

 _He's mine forever,  
There in form,  
There in spirit,  
My entrancing storm._

* * *

"Harry," someone whispers. I look up, the sobs never once seizing. Before me, a man stands. The fog, previously so dense, finally begins to fade, seeming to part for his form as he takes a step closer to me.

"Yes?" I question. My voice is flat but I don't care. The only person who can fix it is Draco and he's gone.

"I can fix it, you know," he utters. I look at him, skeptical.

"What can you fix?" I ask. He smiles, the brightness of it almost too much for me to bare.

"Why, your heart, of course."

He says it like it's nothing and I simply stare at him, disbelief warring with a broken sort of hope.

"That's impossible."

I'm certain it is. No one can fix something so terribly broken.

"You think so?" he asks. I hate the cockiness in his tone. I nod.

"Well then," he purrs, his crimson eyes flashing. "How about I fix your heart and you allow me to take something of my choosing."

I consider it. It's not a bad compromise when you think about it. If he manages to fix my broken heart, a meager possession doesn't compare in value. I nod once more and his smirk grows wider.

"Close your eyes," he coos. I obey him and in the next moment, a small breeze ruffles through. I feel nothing and slowly open my eyes.

"You didn't fix it," I mutter dejectedly. This is why I didn't want to get my hopes up. It hurts even more than it did beforehand.

"Oh, but it did," he whispers. This time, though, his voice echoes throughout the forest, his body nowhere in sight. How did he do that?

Shrugging, I head back towards my village, Godric's Hallow, my heart heavy and the tears flowing down my cheeks once more.

* * *

 _He's mine forever,_  
 _My powers have no control,_  
 _But my mind holds it all,_  
 _His heart is mine, for mine he stole._

* * *

Many nights have passed since that fateful day and to be honest, I had forgotten about the strange man in the forest. However, when he showed up at my doorstep the next day, I looked at him in stunned disbelief.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, aware that my voice was cold. He clicks his teeth and for a second, my gaze is drawn towards them.

They're pearly and shine in the sunlight, seeming to wink at me with their brightness. Curious, I look him up and down, a small blush painting my cheeks because of what I find.

His hair, a silky looking brown, lay atop his head in waves, stopping at his shoulders. His skin is a pale white but it's a few shades lighter than mine. His crimson eyes, reminiscent of the blood that flows through my veins, stare into my green ones, the playful air to them giving way to a sinister aura when one looks deep enough.

His body is muscled and lithe, something that I can appreciate given my abnormal skinniness. If he notices my appreciating gaze, he says nothing of it. Instead, he turns and leans on the doorway, the grin never once leaving his face.

"Have you forgotten about our bet already? I'm hurt."

I glare at him at the mention of his promise.

"My heart's still broken." I remark coolly. His smiles grow wider.

"No, it's not."

I sneer at him.

"I think that I'd know what I feel."

"You obviously don't," he counters. He takes a step forward and I take one back. Sadly, he follows me inside. "You feel, do you not?"

I stare at him and think back. I did indeed feel. I worry constantly over my friends and feel even more heartbreak when it comes to Draco.

"Exactly," he continued. "Beforehand, you were on the verge of not being able to feel at all. Now, though, you feel things properly. While I didn't _heal_ your heart, I did _fix_ it."

Damnit, he's right. Sighing, I nod. A promise was a promise. In exchange for fixing my heart, I'd give him something.

"What do you want…?" I trail off, not knowing his name.

"Tom," he helpfully responds. "I want…"

He leans in until his mouth is not even an inch away from mine. His crimson eyes bore into my green orbs with a startling intensity.

"You."

* * *

 _He's mine forever,_  
 _Green hooded eyes and all,_  
 _His angel face,_  
 _My angel fall._

* * *

I stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and my eyes wide.

"What?" I whisper, throat suddenly dry. His eyes gleam in malice and his smile grows bigger.

"In exchange for fixing your heart, you agreed to allow me to take something of my choosing. While you thought that it was a meager possession, I was actually referring to you as a person."

I can say nothing to that. I keep staring, a tight feeling beginning to form in my chest.

"Now, my dearest Harry, you are mine."

I can't refute it.

* * *

Days, turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and months turn into years. True to my word, I stay with him, belonging to him for the rest of my life.

I won't lie and say that it was horrible. Tom, despite his playful disposition, is kind and just. He took care of me and looked out for me as we traveled. Decades later, when I finally cracked down and asked why he helped me that day, he told me that it was because he had been watching me since I was born.

He had been there when my parents were killed and despite not being able to save them, he had vowed to himself that he would look after me. Unfortunately, that need began to morph into an obsession. He had begun to _need_ to have me in another way and while I had hated it at first, I have begun to enjoy his attentions.

Tom is kind and has a wicked way with words. According to him, however, he used to be ruthless. It had only been the thought of having me one day that made him change into the person he was today.

Now, after many years of fighting him and his intentions, I have settled down and even reciprocated his feelings. I love Tom and despite everything within me that tells me that I shouldn't love him, I can't help but need him.

Together, we live happily ever after.

* * *

 _You're mine forever,_  
 _I'll always hold you near,_  
 _Wrapped in my hand,_  
 _My love, have no fear._

 _-Amelia McLaughlin, 15_

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 1290**

 **Grim Tales Competition - The Frog King**

 **Raise A Witch or Wizard Challenge - Month 2. Complications**

 **Muggle Studies - Assignment 9 - Write about someone unexpectedly deceiving another person.**


	85. Drabble 85: VoldemortDraco

**Drabble 85: Voldemort/Draco**

 **Emotions: Angst**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

Mommy told me not to go outside.

I want to do as she says but I can hear her terrified screams echo throughout the house. On the walls, I can see her shadow as she's flung back, body sailing through the air like a rag doll. She hits the wall with a loud bang and I take a step forward, determined to go to her. However, her words ring in my ears and I force myself to stay where I am, nibbling my bottom lip nervously in the darkness that our wardrobe provided.

Mommy told me not to go outside.

How can I do as she says when she's obviously being hurt?

A substance, red and silky, flies through the air, splattering beautifully on the wall in front of me. I stare at it in confusion.

Mommy's screams are getting louder. Mommy, are you okay?

Suddenly, a flash of blue light goes off, blinding me and making me cover my aching eyes. When I dare open them again, Mommy's lying on the ground, her normally icy blue eyes filled with tears. Her hand is clutching at her stomach and she's looking at me with something akin to dread.

"What's wrong?" I whisper. Mommy says nothing. She merely stares at me, shaking her head a little in horror.

"Mommy?" I try again. She shakes her head harder. I hear cackling, the sound loud in the previous silence. I take a step forward, attempting to go to her but I stop when I see the warning in her gaze. I know she'll spank me if I go any further so I stop, not wanting to anger her when she looks so pained.

She turns towards the cackling, eyeing the figure before her in disdain. However, before she can say anything, a bright green light erupts from the stick the man is holding and I watch, helpless, as my mom's hand goes slack against her stomach.

"Draco," I hear her utter before her chest stops rising and falling. Shocked and a little dazed, I come out from my hiding spot, intent on going to her but before I get to her body, an arm loops around my waist, pulling me to their chest.

"Hello, Draco," they coo. I can't respond. Instead, I stare at the red eyes in terror. "It's a _pleasure_ to see you again."

My screams echo around us.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 398.**

 **Drabble to the Death Weekly Competition/Challenge - Prompt: In the dark.**


	86. Drabble 86: DeanHarry

**Drabble 86: Dean/Harry**

 **Emotions: Angst**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

Dead.

My beloved Dean… was dead.

To be honest, I don't know how I feel right now. On one hand, I feel like I'm being steadily destroyed from the inside out, but on the other, I feel as if this is all a dream. I feel that, later on, when I wake up, Dean will still be next to me, holding me contently to his chest.

I can picture it now. The sun's deadly beams would sneak through the drapes of our window, illuminating our faces in its orange light. Slowly waking up, I'd stir and Dean would purr low in his throat, hands steadily sliding down my sides until they reached my waist. He'd kiss my cheek and whisper a breathy greeting as he smiled down at me sleepily, eyes dancing with warmth and adoration.

It would be a peaceful morning.

Now, though, I know that there is no such thing awaiting me. Before me, Dean's body lays, one of his caramel hands strewn to the right side of his body haphazardly. His eyes, normally a lively black, would be wide open, emptiness radiating from deep within their depths.

I stare, willing him to close his eyes and reopen them, revealing warm black orbs; willing him to show me the beautiful smile that he only had for me.

He didn't.

I sit there and mourn, hoping and praying for something that I know will never happen.

Dean is dead.

I think I am too.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 245.**

 **Weekly Character Appreciation Challenge - Week 1 - Dean Thomas**

 **Getting Around Challenge - Harry/Dean**


	87. Drabble 87: TomHarryVoldemort

**Title: A Broken Boy's Promise**

 **Pairing: If you squint, Tom/Harry.**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Alternate Universe.**

 **Authors' Note - Written for Round 3 of Quidditch League. This is Firediva0, keeper of the Wimbourne Wasp. My prompt was 'Wasp' and word count 1200-1500. My word count was 1,476**

* * *

Harry sat in his room, his feet curled beneath him as he kneeled on the ground, his lifeless eyes gazing at the wall before him.

Total silence rang through the room, unbroken except for the occasional beep that came from the camera in each of the four corners of the enclosed space. He didn't move much, save for a few blinks and twitches every now and then. It was disturbing and as Tom looked at him through the camera, he felt a detached sense of pity beginning to form in his stomach.

The boy was only 15 years old. He was barely on the precipice of adulthood, yet he was forced to endure such horrors by the hands of others. It wasn't even because the boy was special. No, it wasn't anything as superficial as that. Instead, it was simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had found the young man when he had gotten separated from his parents at the amusement park and at the time, it had seemed utterly plausible to take the young boy away so that they could use him. It's been five years since that day and even now, Harry hadn't changed much. His hair had only grown a few measly inches and his growth was stunted because of the chemicals that reacted harshly with his body.

Turning around in his wheeled chair, Tom stood, heading outside the camera room and making his way towards Harry's room. Once he stood outside of it, he slowly turned the knob and walked in, not even bothering to knock. The patients they nursed here didn't even get privacy when they used the bathroom. What would be the point of creating an illusion of one?

Stepping inside, Tom watched stoically as the other boy didn't even flinch. It disturbed him, if he was being honest with himself. When the boy had first come to their institution, he had been fiery and passionate in everything he did. Now, however, his eyes were ones of a broken man. It was a stark contrast, from the bright and alive green they had once been. While Tom did have fun breaking the teen, now, as he watched the live results of that torture, it kind of hurt him to see just how broken the once strong-willed teen had become.

Forcing himself to get away from those thoughts, Tom pushed himself forward; each step he took ringing in the cold and lingering silence of the room. Soon, he was right above Harry, his shadow looming over the boy threateningly. At once, he could see the change. When he had first entered, Harry hadn't moved. He'd been calm and collected. Now that Tom was close, however, he stiffened, the eyes that had been so stubbornly focused on the wall now boring into his gray ones.

"Harry," Tom called, making sure that his eyes were void of emotion. In this place, emotions weren't allowed. Said boy didn't flinch. Instead, he blinked once, the lifeless fog that had enveloped his pupils slowly evaporating until Tom could at least see that the boy was aware of his presence.

"Yes?" The answering voice was husky and scratchy from hours of not being in use. Tom was expecting that.

" _He_ wants to see you," Tom announced. Harry merely nodded and lifted one pale and taunt hand, gazing at him expectantly; Tom sighed and helped the boy up, wrapping one of his muscular arms around the boy's waist in an attempt to steady him.

Together, they made their way to the walls and down the corridors, each locked door passing by in a blur of silver. When they finally made it to a black door, they stopped, Tom gazing down at Harry with a hint of worry before looking up again, the stoic mask once again overtaking his face.

He reached down and knocked sharply once, immediately opening the door when a voice in the inside beckoned him to do so. As the door opened, the room was revealed. The walls were a dark gray and the floor was a light blue. To the right, a dresser stood, two tumblers and a glass of wine laying upon it. To the left, several comfortable armchairs and sofas sat, each one made of black leather. In the center of the room, a dark mahogany desk stood, two chairs across from it, and a pale figure standing beside it.

Said figure looked just like Tom in appearance. He had dark black hair that reached his shoulders and was styled expertly in layers. He had broad shoulders and beautifully sculpted legs that looked even more entrancing wrapped in the dark black suit the man wore. His eyes, however, were different than Tom's. Rather than being a dark and stormy gray, they were a bright and piercing crimson.

"Hello, Harry," the figure cooed, motioning to the seat across from his desk. "Would you like to sit down?"

Harry shook his head and stayed where he was, still leaning against Tom.

"Voldemort," he acknowledged, hatred dripping from his words. Said man smirked before adopting a wounded look.

"Why so much contempt, little one?" he asked. Harry scowled.

"Don't call me that."

"No matter." Voldemort shook his head. "I quite like the hatred. It makes things exciting."

"If that's all," Harry began, gritting his teeth, "I think I'll be going now." He looked at Tom expectantly and said man gently tugged Harry so that they faced the door. They were about to leave when a voice called out to him.

"Actually, Harry, I was just going to tell you that we'll begin electroshock therapy again next week."

At the mention of the treatment, Harry paused in his tracks and swerved around. He would have fallen if Tom still hadn't had his arm around him, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"You can't!" he protested, face going pale. "Last time, it almost killed me! Why are you doing this?"

Voldemort smiled cruelly, his red eyes lighting up with rage.

"Mrs. Granger called… She wondered if you were here and when we said no, threatened to bring down the whole institution if she found you here. I wanted to know how she found out you were here, so I organized a search. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you were making secret calls to her from my office?"

Harry stiffened, his mind racing a mile per minute.

"I'm sorry!" he attempted to apologize.

"Don't you remember Harry?" Voldemort questioned, eyes flashing in anger. "You don't belong to yourself anymore. I own you and for you to so blatantly go against me, you should be killed. Be happy that I'm being so merciful."

"I'm sorry!"

Voldemort would hear none of it, though. He beckoned Tom to take him away.

"Please, don't make me go through that again!" Harry yelled as he was tugged away. The sound of his screamed apologies followed him out, Voldemort's own cackles ringing in his ears.

* * *

"I'm worried," Tom remarked, gazing through the cameras at his frozen patient.

Ever since Voldemort had announced that Harry would have to undergo shock therapy again, the teen had been a mess of nerves. At seemingly random times, the boy would break out into tears and apologize profusely. Now, however, the boy was completely still, his lifeless eyes gazing at the wall opposite to him. His mouth moved rapidly as he muttered something over and over again. It was so fast that Tom had no hopes of deciphering it.

"Don't be. He deserves what's coming to him," Voldemort assured. Tom sighed, shaking his head.

"Voldemort," he began. "Can we blame him for wanting to go with the resistance? He's obviously not happy here."

"This is war, Tom. We don't have time for such trivialities. The whole reason for us being here is to get stronger so that we can defeat the old coot."

"But can't we do that without using kids? We need to let him go!"

"Harry stays," Voldemort commanded, his own contemplative gaze not leaving Harry despite his words.

The two continued to watch as the boy muttered, a small cackle escaping his lips every so often.

 _"_ _I'm going to utterly destroy you. Like a wasp, I'm going to zero in on you when you least expect it and attack. You think this will keep me down? Hah, don't make me laugh! I'm going to scream, I'm going to fight, and I'm going to laugh when I finally bite you in the ass.  
Watch out, Voldemort… You're going down."_

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Quidditch League (See AN at the top of the page).**

 **May Word Count - 1,476**

 **May Event:**

May's birthstone is the Emerald - Write about a Slytherin Character Day of Youth - Write about a child International Missing Children's Month - write about a missing child


	88. Drabble 88: RegulusHarry

**Drabble 88: Regulus/Harry**

 **Emotions: Confusion and disbelief.**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

Intense and stormy gray eyes…

Harry should feel scared- terrified even at the notion that _he_ of all people could still be alive.

He wasn't.

Instead of the terror that should have been rushing through his veins, Harry felt an almost nonchalant sort of peace running throughout him. He wasn't happy, nor was he sad. He was just… there. It was weird in a way, yet, as he was used to things being ridiculously weird in his life, he paid it no heed.

He straightened, his own piercing green eyes looking right into dark gray ones. The man before him smiled and extended his hand, his lips parting effortlessly to reveal pearly white teeth.

"Regulus Black," he introduced. Harry stared at him, disbelief warring with dangerous hope.

"No, you're not," he said, shaking his head lightly. Regulus frowned, eyes glancing at Harry for a moment before they darted back to his hand. Sighing, the man dropped the appendage.

"Oh, but I am," Regulus returned. Harry shook his head more vigorously.

"You're not. Regulus is dead." As if to prove his point, Harry made a vague gesture at the ground.

"I'm sorry, but I think you're mistaking me for someone else. Might I ask what your name is?"

If the man was getting annoyed, he didn't show it. He merely smiled softly at Harry, most likely trying to will the boy to understand. Harry didn't, but he decided that the least he could do was give the pseudo Regulus his name.

"Harry," he finally gritted out. "Harry Potter."

Regulus didn't react to his name like Harry expected he would. He simply nodded.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," he returned, the name sounding like a silk caress on his tongue. Harry blushed and returned the sentiment.

"Anyways," the green eyed boy continued. "You're not Regulus."

This time, the man sighed, his eyes closing briefly. Opening them again, almost warily, the light in them shifted. Instead of the patience that had once littered them, an odd sort of cattish delight made itself apparent.

"Harry," the man all but purred. "Why are you so insistent that I not be Regulus?"

Harry grimaced, painful memories beginning to resurface.

"Regulus Black was a brilliant man. He sacrificed himself to save a lot of people and…" the boy trailed off, a small blush beginning to make itself known on his cheeks.

"You liked him, didn't you?" Regulus questioned softly, the delight from before becoming more apparent. He didn't wait for Harry to respond.

"I can be what you want, if you let me," he whispered, taking a step forward until he was mere inches away from the teen.

Harry stared at him in disbelief, his face darkening into an intense shade of red.

"No!" he denied, taking a step backwards. However, his back made contact with the wall and Regulus took yet another step forward, effectively trapping him with his body.

"Come on, Harry," he cooed. "Let me be what you want- what you _need_."

Green and gray met in a silent battle and Harry opened his mouth as if to say something when a loud screech filled the air.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Hermione Granger, a member of the Golden Trio, rounded the corner and grabbed the wide eyed boy's hand, muttering furiously.

"You freaking fool…do you know how worried I've been…I'm going to castrate you!"

She dragged him away, not paying attention to the figure that was staring at their retreating backs.

"Tch," Regulus announced, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "I almost had him too."

"Oh, well," he mumbled to himself. "I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow."

"See you later, Harry," he whispered, staring at the boy until he completely faded from his view.

"Soon, you'll be mine."

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Quidditch Pitch: "I could be what you want, if you let me."**

 **Weekly Character Appreciation Week – Week 3 – Regulus Black**

 **World War – Submission 1.**

 **May Word Count - 639**


	89. Drabble 89: DracoHarry

**Drabble 89: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter**

 **Emotions: Hope.**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

The most beautiful thing on Earth is love.

When one can love, they have the key of the universe at their fingertips. When one can love, they can obtain a serene sort of peace with the world itself. Everything will seem brighter and the feeling in your chest would be utterly lovely.

However, when love failed and hate set in, horrors unlike anything we've ever seen will come about. Your chest, previously filled with utter delight, will twist with rage and sorrow. The happy thoughts that once resided in your mind will turn vile in nature, somehow managing to turn every single positive emotion that you feel into something bitter.

Dread and despair will consume your soul and the world will become a bleak place to live in.

Harry knew this. Heck, Harry _lived_ in a bitter world, yet for some ridiculous reason, he couldn't deny the hope that still sprung up in his chest. He couldn't deny the possibility that one day, the bleak world he lived in would come alive in bright and magnificent colors. He couldn't deny the chance that maybe, just maybe, he would find love with someone who will love him just as fiercely in return.

He hoped, and he hoped over and over again that someone would come into the picture like a knight in shining armor and save him from this dreadful world. He didn't care who it was, if he was being honest with himself. He simply wanted to be free of all of the negativity that managed to weigh down on him day after day.

He wanted freedom – freedom from the chains that the war with Voldemort had managed to bind him with.

After the war, wizards and witches alike had decided that he was someone to be worshipped, not hated, so they pressured him into being Minister. He had wanted to say no so badly, yet he couldn't. The hopeful faces of his fellow wizards was simply too much to bare after the burden of the war. Harry had said yes, hoping that the term would pass by quickly.

It didn't.

After his long and almost wistful first term, the populous demanded that he be Minister again. The wizarding world had flourished under his leadership and they apparently wanted it to stay that way.

Harry, having not been able to say no yet again, had agreed, plastering a fake smile in order to ensure that no one knew of the fake rouse he made.

While Harry had truly hoped that Ron and Hermione would realize that he truly didn't want to be minister, they didn't, something that made him even more bitter.

He was tired- so, so tired of constantly running around in the hopes of giving the Wizarding World what they wanted. It was draining him and he felt as if he were losing apart of himself.

A knock sounded from the door and Harry sighed, closing his eyes briefly in annoyance.

"Come in," he ordered, straightening in his chair and attempting to look somewhat professional. The door opened and green eyes met gray.

"You-" Harry trailed off in shock. The figure before him smiled, his pearly teeth gleaming in the artificial light.

"Hello, Potter," the man said, his voice just as smooth as ever.

Before him, Draco Malfoy stood, his gray eyes just as intense as ever. Maybe, Harry realized, the happy world he longed for would come after all.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **World War – Submission 2.**

 **May Word Count - 572.**


	90. Drabble 90: DracoHarry

**Drabble 90: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter**

 **Emotions: Confusion, hatred, etc.**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

I hate him.

I utterly _despise_ him.

That is a fact.

What I can't understand, however, is the reason why my heart beats faster whenever I'm near him.

He broke me.

He _destroyed_ me.

Why do I want him to annihilate me?

.

.

.

Hermione clutches me to her bosom and wipes my tears away gently. I tremble in her hold, curses falling from my lips.

I _knew_ that he'd be the end of me yet I couldn't resist. He was perfect; he'd been everything I wanted in a man.

I was drawn to that beauty despite the fact that he was an utter ass.

I guess, in the end, it was my fault.

Hermione had told me to stay away. Hell, _I_ had told myself to stay away. Why couldn't I stay away from him?

You know what the sad thing is, though? I know that I'm going to go right back to him.

I love him. I hate him. I despise him. I need him.

I've never felt more alive.

I hate you, Tom Riddle.

I love you, Tom Riddle.

I'm going to kill you, Tom Riddle.

I'm going to need you, Tom Riddle.

You've annihilated me, Tom Riddle.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **World War – Submission 3.**

 **May Word Count - 202**


	91. Drabble 91: DracoHarry

**Drabble 91: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter**

 **Emotions: Confusion, hatred, etc.**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

I needed one thing from him.

Just one.

It wasn't even something hard to give.

I only needed love.

I only needed devotion.

I only needed _him._

Why couldn't you give me that, Draco? Why couldn't you kiss me on the cheek and welcome me home like you always did before? Why did I have to walk in and find you on top of _her_ of all people?

I thought you loved me, Draco.

I thought you cared.

Was I mistaken in that belief?

My heart's in shambles and the tears won't stop. I remember when you told me that you loved me for the first time. I had been so happy, so ecstatic that the guy I liked, loved me back despite our tainted history.

I remember rushing over to the Burrow and regaling our elegant tale to Hermione and Ron. I remember them congratulating me on finding happiness. I was happy, Draco. You had been my world. I would have done _anything_ for you.

You loved me and I loved you. Everything was perfect.

You messed up, then, as if you couldn't stand the thought of a beautiful and peaceful life with me.

Why did you cheat on me, Draco? Why did you have sex with Pansy in our bedroom? Why did you disgrace our sanctuary with such a vile act?

Do you hate me, Draco? If not, then why would you hurt me so much?

I love you, Draco, but you don't love me.

The pain tears at me heart and I'm crying, yet where are you?

You once told me that you'd be my knight in shining armor. You said, that when the darkness finally caught up to me and threatened to envelope me in its hold, you'd pull me out and make love to me.

You said that you'd counteract the sadness that entered my heart.

Where are you now, Draco?

Why am I still here? Why am I drowning?

I loved you, Draco.

You don't love me anymore.

Draco…where are you?

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **World War – Submission 4.**

 **May Word Count - 337.**


	92. Drabble 92: NevilleHarry

**Drabble 92: Neville/Harry**

 **Emotions: Anticipation, elation**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

Lingering doubt….

Mind boggling uncertainty…

I chew restlessly on my pencil, my green eyes gazing longingly at the man before me. The other figure is oblivious to my staring. He continues with his task of carefully restocking the shelf.

I wonder for the briefest of moments what it would feel like to be confessed to just like this. Would he turn around and profess his love in a sooth manner or would he stumble over his words?

He shifts yet again, reaching up on the tips of his toes in an effort to place a large book on a high shelf. He eventually reaches it but not without his shirt rising and exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his pale skin. I gulp inaudibly, a tendril of desire shooting through me.

Finished with his task, he looks at the shelfs with a self-satisfied smirk before turning on his heels, his soft brown eyes connecting with my emerald ones.

He smiles, the expression somehow fitting his face, and waves at me brightly. I wave at him and watch through desire filled eyes as he continues on until he reaches the exit, soon disappearing out of sight.

I stay in my spot for several minutes, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I can remember the soft intensity of his gaze as it bore into my own. I can remember the beautiful shred of skin that was shown to my appraising eyes when he stretched to get the book. I can remember the delicate arch of his back as he put each book on the shelf.

Flushing in remembrance, I'm forced to readjust my robes, knowing that if I'm not careful, my hard on would be plain for all to see. Bolting up from my seat, I'm just about to leave when I see a glimpse of pale white amongst the book shelves.

Walking up to it, I gasp when I see a wedge of paper sticking out of the large tomb the other boy had been placing on the shelf earlier.

 **To Harry,**

 **Hoping to hear from you soon, cutie!**

 **248-xxx-xxx**

 **-Neville Longbottom**

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **World War – Submission 5.**

 **May Word Count - 351.**


	93. Drabble 93: PansyDraco

**Drabble 93: Draco/Pansy**

 **Emotions: Agony**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

I need you.

I need you.

I need you.

I need you.

I need you.

I **need** you.

You don't need me.

I'm screaming, you know. I'm yelling, and pleading, and begging, and crying. I'm wishing and I'm needing, yet you are nowhere to be found.

Without you, our family is in shambles. The children are screaming at the top of their lungs, demanding and begging that their daddy comes back to them. My sister is blaming everything on me. She maintains that it's my fault. She says that, had I been a better wife, you wouldn't have left us.

That's utter bull though, right? You were going to leave regardless. You knew what you wanted and that wasn't me.

If you're wondering, I don't blame you. After all, how could I? It wasn't your fault that we were forced together because of pureblood traditions. It wasn't your fault that you were never attracted to me.

You don't love me and I don't love you. Our affair is one of passionless necessity. We needed to breed and we did. You couldn't take it anymore though.

You hated being caged, Draco. I understand this now. You hated being forced to do something that you didn't want to. You hated that you had to be with someone you didn't love.

It was because of that hatred that you cheated on me, right, Draco?

Isn't that why I found you fucking Potter on our bed? Isn't that why you turned out gay? The thought of marrying someone you didn't love caused hatred when it came to the body of a women didn't it?

That has to be it, right?

It couldn't have possibly been that I turned you gay, Draco. I'm not that bad.

Wait, am I?

Is that why our kids are screaming at the top of their lungs for you? Is that why gut wrenching agony is forcing itself into my heart? Is that why my sister consistently blames me for your departure?

Am I inwardly fucked up, Draco?

I don't know anymore.

I need you, Draco.

I need you so badly.

But… do you need me?

What happened to us, Drake?

What happened to the consent we both gave each other? What happened to the vow to spend the rest of our miserable lives together? Did that mean nothing to you, Draco? Was I just a fool?

I need you, Draco.

I need you so much.

You don't need me.

That fact brings me more pain than anything I've ever imagined.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **World War – Submission 6.**

 **May Word Count - 421.**


	94. Drabble 94: SanguiniHarry

**Drabble 94: Sanguini/Harry**

 **Emotions: Pity**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

"You can run, Harry, but you can't hide," Sanguini chided gently. Harry paused, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes before he squashed it down. The older vampire smiled, his knowing red eyes boring into Harry's. "You don't love her like you love me."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry returned, glaring at the other. "I only love Ginny."

Sanguini scoffed, the smile that had graced his features turning into an exasperated frown.

"Harry," he began, his voice practically oozing pity. "We're mates. I'm the only one who matches you, who challenges you, who'll do anything for you. You need me just like I need you."

"You're delusional," Harry responded, shaking his head. "I don't need you."

"Alas, young child. You need me more than you might think."

"Oh, is that so?" Harry questioned lightly, pointedly ignoring the sharp glance the other sent him. "Well, I need to go. I have a date with my **girlfriend**."

"So, you're just going to walk away and pretend this never happened?" Sanguini asked. Harry nodded, gathering his stuff.

"'Guini, while you're a great person and all, I'm not gay. We wouldn't work even if we needed each other," Harry patiently explained. Sanguini sighed, frustration leaking into his tone.

"I'm hoping you'll choose me like I've chosen you. I believe you will figure out the same thing I did. That we're inevitable."

Harry paused at that, turning until his green eyes met with Sanguini's stunning crimson.

"I'm sad that you'll have to understand this the hard way."

With that, he waved once before spinning on his heels and walking away from the seething vampire.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:**

 **Character Pairings**

Harry/Ginny

 **Dialogue**

"I'm the only one who matches you, who challenges you, who'll do anything for you." - Kilgrave from Marvel's Jessica Jones Thread "I'm hoping you'll choose me like I've chosen you. I believe you will figure out the same thing I did. That we're inevitable." - Kilgrave from Marvel's Jessica Jones Thread

 **May Word Count - 273**


	95. Drabble 95: Alex (OC)Sirius

**Poker Face**

 **Pairing: N/A**

 **Rated: T**

 **Quidditch League – Round 4 Entry by the Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps. Chosen Creature: Dementor.**

 **Notes: The Dementor used in this story is an OC created by me. As Dementors were never human, we'll simply address this Dementor as Alex and justify it by saying that this is what its name is translated to in human tongue. Also, the Dementors will all see each other as brethren and can switch between their own native tongue and English.**

* * *

The smell of burning flesh permeates the air.

Screams echo all around him, but Alex doesn't react to them. Instead, he continues to hover a few inches off the ground, his body facing instinctively towards the dais in the middle of the room. The Dark Lord continues to speak, his voice conniving as he proposes his 'grand plan' to them. Alex and his fellow Dementors continue to listen nonchalantly, enjoying the hidden frustration in Voldemort's eyes as he attempts to persuade them to join his cause.

When the Dark Lord has finally finished, Romanov, their leader, pushes himself forward slowly, cold tendrils of air beginning to radiate off of his form. The members of the Dark Lord's inner circle all shiver as the Dementor draws closer.

"Voldemort," he begins, his words switching into a raspy version of human tongue. "While your proposal is appealing, we shall deny it. Good day." Romanov turns, the dismissal devastatingly clear, and makes his way towards the door.

The Dark Lord isn't pleased by this. Wand suddenly in hand, he throws a spell a few feet before Romanov, the threat as clear as day.

"Won't you enlighten me as to why you won't accept?" he asks, false formality being shown as he twirls his wand between his fingers. Rather than being cowed by the blatant threat, Romanov nods his assent calmly.

"Your logic has been tainted by the lack of sanity you possess. You are of no use to us and we can't gain anything by following you."

"How dare you?" Voldemort hisses, the little politeness he once retained now gone and replaced by a fierce rage.

"Goodbye," Romanov states again, this time, completely ignoring the Dark Lord as he exits, all other Dementors in tow.

Behind them, a fuming Dark Lord screams his protest, his threats falling on deaf ears.

* * *

When they reach Azkaban Prison to once more resume watching over the prisoners, Alex pulls Romanov aside.

"Which side will we be joining in this blasted war?" he asks.

"Neither," Romanov swiftly replies, appearing more daunting due to the large hole that takes residence where his mouth is supposed to be. "However, we won't alienate the Light side yet. If they manage to win this war, I'm sure they'll allow us to reap all of the Dark side's souls."

"Doesn't that go against their moral code?" Alex questions.

"It does, but then again, since when have humans ever really stood by their ideals? Usually, they break them in some way or another," Romanov answers, shrugging.

Alex nods. It was true, after all. Humans were a very hypocritical race.

"What shall we do in the meantime?" Alex wonders.

"Well, brother, we will be bidding our time here, sucking the souls out of all the humans that lay dormant in this prison," Romanov announces.

"Do we have free reign?"

"Not yet. We have to maintain the illusion that we actually follow the Light side."

Alex nods and turns, sated with the answer he had managed to get. Although, behind him, someone lurks in the shadows, their piercing gray eyes following his every move.

* * *

"I know what you're planning," a husky voice whispers.

Alex turns, the telltale smell of a wonderful human's soul wafting into his nose. Looking in the direction of the life form in curiosity, he speaks.

"And what am I planning, human?"

"You only plan on feasting on people's souls. This war means nothing to you and when it's finally over, you're going to take vast delight in the amount of souls that will be offered to you on a silver platter," the human declares. Alex nods, almost certain that the man would see it.

"What's the problem with that?"

"Nothing," the other begins. "Just promise me one thing?" Alex, amused at the audacity of the other, decides to entertain them.

"What would that be?"

"Don't hurt my godson," the human says, seriousness lacing his tone.

"Sorry, but you're going to have to be a little more specific," Alex advises, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Leave my godson, Harry Potter, alone."

At the mention of Harry's name, Alex grows very still before he moves forward, his body now mere inches away from the other's.

"The Boy-Who-Lives?" he asks. Alex can feel the shift in the wind that indicates that the other nodded. "Why would I do that for you?" he questions, genuine curiosity now replacing his sarcasm.

"Because," the other starts, the threat now prominent in his tone, "if you do this for me, then I won't kill you."

Alex burst out laughing, the high-pitched and cold sound filling the dark corridor in which he stood.

"You," he begins in the midst of his laughter, "hurt me?!"

The other man scowls, although, Alex can't see it and whines slightly as he says, "You don't think that I can? I'd utterly destroy you!"

Alex laughs for another moment and raises one bony and scabbed hand to point at the other.

"You have guts; I'll tell you that. Let's make a deal. I won't kill Harry Potter, and you will keep entertaining me."

After feeling the other's nod of consent, Alex turns and begins his trek back down the corridors, intent on going to collect more souls.

* * *

Doomsday has come and, like Alex had promised, no harm comes to Harry Potter. The Light Side wins much to Lord Voldemort's frustration, and the Dementors are given permission to suck the souls of all the war criminals.

Sirius Black, the man who had made a deal with Alex, keeps his promise, and brings amusement to the Dementor's life. When the man is eventually freed, Alex is sad to see him go. He will miss the amusement that Sirius had managed to provide him, but he supposes that it will be for the better.

He is a Dementor and friendships with his food is a big no-no among his kind.

After all the criminals are brought down under the Dementor's kiss, the Dementors officially rebels against the Ministry and wage war with the wizards, enslaving them in the process.

Now, years later, Alex stands with his fellow brethren in a grand hall, chained humans being dragged around by leashes for easy access. For a brief moment, Alex can swear that he can smell Sirius' soul again, but he dutifully ignores it, already knowing that it's best for the past to remain in the past.

A bubble of cold and harsh laughter bubbles in his throat before the man pushes it down.

Sirius Black was perhaps the most amazing human he had ever met.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count: 1093**

 **200 Characters In 200 Days - 46. Sirius Black**

 **Quidditch League - Check Author's Note Above**


	96. Drabble 96: BlaiseHarry

**Drabble 96: Blaise/Harry**

 **Emotions: Heartbreak**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

 _Everyone around me has told me that you weren't worth it._

 _They said that you, with your dashing good looks and charming personality, would destroy me completely. I hadn't believed them. After all, you were too good to be true. You were kind and sweet, caring and adorable, mischievous and tender… You were everything I have ever wanted._

 _You didn't let me down either. You showered me with praises and treated me like an equal, something that people haven't done for me in years. I loved you, Blaise. I **still** love you, Blaise. _

_Your smile still makes me happy, your laugh still ignites little butterflies in my stomach, and the mere thought of you still causes me to blush._

 _You were everything to me. You **are** everything to me. _

_Hermione and Ron still protest. They still tell me that you haven't changed. They say that, one day, when I least expect it, you're going to leave me._

 _The thought brings unimaginable pain. After all, they are my friends. Shouldn't they be supporting our love rather than condemning it?_

 _I ignore them. Friend or not, it is not their decision on whether or not we stay together._

 _It works out._

 _We're both happy and in love, and it feels like nothing can get in our way._

 _How wrong we were._

 _Things fell apart quickly and our little bubble of happiness quickly popped. Real life came. Our arguments from Hogwarts resurfaced. The love I housed for you was just as strong but it couldn't combat the massive surge of hate that rose within me._

 _I loved you, Blaise._

 _I hated you, Blaise._

 _Our dream shattered into a million pieces right before our eyes. Your happy face was soon replaced by one of utter disgust and my love filled eyes were quickly replaced with ones filled with loathing._

 _Don't get me wrong, Blaise. I did love you. It's just that nothing could change the fact that we were too different._

 _Our relationship quickly fell through. Just like that, our happiness slipped between our fingers. The promising future that we had looked forward to crashed and burned._

 _Our love was no more._

 _Hermione and Ron had been right._

 _I think that was the push that had led to me destroying everything._

 _The very thought that we would not last hurt me in a way that I was not prepared for._

 _If you're reading this, beloved, then I have done what I've thought about doing ever since you began dating someone else._

 _I'm dead, Blaise. You have to let me go._

 _Be happy with Daphne. You loved her, didn't you? Unlike us, you guys actually stand a chance._

 _I love you, Blaise. Don't ever doubt that._

 _Our relationship was doomed from the start. I finally realize that now._

 _Always loving you,_

 _~Harry_

* * *

Clutching the paper tightly to his hand, Blaise allowed the tears to come. Before him, Harry lay, the stark white of the hospital's bed sheets highlighting the vulnerable boy that stood so close to Death's door.

Raising one shaky hand, the blonde clutched his beloved's hand, sobbing as he came in contact with the freezing flesh.

"Harry," he croaked. "I'm so sorry…"

"I love you," he continued. "I love you, too."

No one heard him.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **200 Characters in 200 Days - 158. Blaise Zabini**

 **May Word Count - 545**


	97. Drabble 97: CharlieHarry

**Drabble 97: Charlie/Harry**

 **Emotions: Angst**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warning: Attempted suicide, cutting, self-harm.**

* * *

When you're on the edge, it's amazing how many things become clear to you.

Harry lays on the bathroom floor, his body curled into a ball by the toilet. He's pale, his skin closely resembling snow as he stays there, not moving.

Tiny gasps escape from his parted lips and tears leak from his eyes, yet he doesn't move. Instead, he clutches his eyes shut, wave upon wave of unimaginable pain flowing throughout his body.

A dark, crimson liquid covers the floor, seeming to come from Harry himself. The puddle grows larger and larger, but Harry does not heed the fact that he's lying in it.

He's still laying there, his eyes opening slightly as twin jades peer blearily across the room.

Finally, when the silence is about to overwhelm him, Harry hears the door open. For a moment, he has no reaction. He merely continues staring at the wall. However, in the next second, he's bolting up from his position and eyeing the door in horrid panic. Struggling to rise, Harry winces when he applies pressure to his arms and legs, but he forces himself to forge onwards. He gets to the door, ignoring the muffled voice outside the door that frantically inquiries about his whereabouts, and locks it.

Charlie can't know. He can't. Harry won't allow it.

Thinking about it now, this was stupid, Harry reasoned. Why did he try to off himself in a place that Charlie was bound to return to? What was he to do if the other man walked in on him and found out his secret?

With a whole new set of hysteria setting in, Harry was oblivious to his surroundings until the knob began to shake violently. Knowing that Charlie was most likely trying to get in, the panic began to reach an all-time high.

Harry breathed rapidly, his eyes blinking in quick succession as he struggled to find a solution.

Charlie couldn't come in here. He couldn't, he couldn't, he co-

It stopped.

Looking at the knob of the door in an almost weary sort of fascination, Harry hoped above all else that Charlie would not enter.

Luck was not on his side.

After one moment of silence passed, a loud bang echoed throughout the room and the door was suddenly flying open, the menacing form of a heaving Charlie Weasley being shown.

Harry immediately tried to cover his arms, hoping that above all else, Charlie wouldn't see everything.

As it turns out, the other man didn't need to. The pool of blood leading from the center of the room and growing larger the closer it got to Harry was all the evidence he needed.

Quickly, Charlie yelped in horror, making his way towards Harry in turmoil. When he reached him, the older boy didn't hesitate to pull Harry's lithe body into his arms.

He didn't ask questions nor did he attempt to discover where the origins of the cuts were. Instead, he ran, his body practically soaring as he made his way to the hospital.

Later, when Harry sat on the hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his arms and legs, he'd stare at Charlie with apprehension.

The man finally knew.

Harry had no more secrets and he didn't have any more methods of reprieve.

His blade was taken away and they even took away his wand until he could prove that he was mentally stable.

He was miserable.

He was _dying_.

Charlie apparently didn't even care. At the end of the day, even when Harry begged and begged to be allowed to get his wand back, the older Weasley stood firm.

He told Harry that it was for his own good. He told Harry that he had to protect him, even if he had to protect him from himself.

He told Harry that he loved him. He even told Harry that he would make it all up to him.

Harry had believed him. After all, he would _always_ believe Charlie.

Charlie was his rock.

Charlie was his life.

Charlie was his beloved.

Even then, the pain didn't go away.

Harry still cried. Harry still screamed. Heck, Harry even tried to use his nails to cut and tear open his skin.

Charlie didn't ask questions.

Charlie didn't tell him not to do it again.

Charlie was always there for him.

It was because of Charlie that Harry hadn't given up.

Later, when Harry was finally deemed not suicidal and was released back out into the world, he had shown Charlie just how thankful he was.

No longer did Harry need the pain to survive. Now, he only needed Charlie and that was enough for him.

Finally, Harry was free.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **200 Characters in 200 Days - 36. Charlie Weasley**

 **May Word Count - 778**


	98. Drabble 98: Harry x No One

**Drabble 98: Harry x No One**

 **Emotions: Boredom**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warning: Harry is completely OOC in this. I wrote this simply because I'm fed up with how some people show shallow emotions for ulterior motives. It's quite irritating.**

* * *

"I love you, Harry. I love everything about you. I love how you laugh, how you smile, and how you just see the best in people. I love you so much and I hope that you find it in your heart to love me too."

Harry watched as the girl continued to sprout her undying love and devotion for him in disinterest. He knew that she only wanted him because of his status as the Boy Who Lived and was disgusted that she would dare approach him with such nonsense.

Raising his hand, he shook his head at her, a sigh of utter boredom leaving his lips.

"I'm sorry, what was your name again?" he asked tiredly. The girl looked at him, her cheeks turning a dusty red.

"Angelica," she said. Harry nodded.

"I'm sorry, Angelica, but I don't feel the same way."

The girl looked at him, her face turning ashen as tears began to well up in her eyes.

"Can I at least know why?" she asked quietly. Harry pursed his lips in annoyance.

"You asked for it," he reminded. "For one, you're a spoiled brat who only likes me because of the promise I bring for your family. Second, you're uglier than a freaking toad and I'm quite frankly insulted that you would think that I'd like you. Third-"

He was cut off by a loud slap to his cheek.

"I hate you!" the girl bellowed. Harry watched her dispassionately and shrugged.

"Like I said, spoiled."

The girl turned a dark shade of crimson and spit in his face before running away in tears. Behind her, Harry gazed at her with something akin to rage before turning on his heel. However, before he could leave, a tug on his arm stopped him. Turning around, he came face to face with Hermione.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked. Harry shrugged her off of him.

"I have no time for spoiled little girls who don't know the harsh reality we live in."

Hermione shook her head fondly. "You're a menace."

"I know."

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **May Word Count - 343**


	99. Drabble 99: DracoHarry

**Drabble 99: Draco/Harry**

 **Emotions: Love**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

Darkness shrouded the small alley in a cloak of mystery, further highlighting the fact that threatening people were most likely wandering around.

Harry ignored this fact and kept walking, his expression as hard as stone. Around him, people moved about, each one warily eyeing one another.

Harry continued walking, adjusting his cloak discreetly every now and again in order to ensure that no one would notice that the Boy-Who-Lived was wandering around one of the most dangerous places since the war began.

Finally, when he reached his desired place, he slowly walked in, holding his breath lightly as he crossed the threshold of the door. Immediately, a small chime echoed throughout the room, announcing his presence.

Rather than flinching, Harry simply closed the door behind him and walked past the counter that stood in the middle of the small shop. Continuing on his journey, he didn't stop until he reached a door behind the counter that led to a back room. Placing a gentle and pale hand against the door, he hesitated, his heart beating fast in his chest.

He knew what was behind this door. He had been anticipating seeing them again for months. His dreams had been filled with fantasies of what this night would be like, yet, now that he was finally here, he was absolutely petrified.

What if they didn't want to see him again? What if he walked in and received a cruel smile rather than a warm one? What if they had been under some spell when they first met and now, months later, it had worn off? What would he do if his heart was broken?

Eyes going slightly wet at the thought, Harry desperately tried to pull himself together. He couldn't; he wouldn't allow himself to break down after they had come so far. Even if the other didn't love him anymore, he'd somehow be okay. He'd persevere like he always has.

Then again, what if the person still loved him? In that case, Harry would be foolish because he had nothing to worry about. It had only been seven months; there's no way that they couldn't love him anymore, right?

Heart still thumping dangerously fast in his chest, Harry took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his raging nerves and then slowly pushed open the door, the ominous creaking of it loud in the silence.

What he found there, he hadn't been expecting.

Draco Malfoy leaned calmly on a desk towards the back of the room, his face impassive as he stared at the door. However, as soon as Harry walked in, a myriad of emotions crossed his face.

Happiness, excitement, anticipation, nervousness…

Each emotion brought a flutter of joy to Harry's heart and when Draco opened his arms for him, that was the last straw. Immediately, the brunette rushed forward, tears of utter joy slowly falling from his eyes.

The blonde caught him within his hold and held him to him tight, a smile blooming across his cheeks as he whispered pledges of love in Harry's ear.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the warmth that the other managed to instill in their hearts. When they finally parted, Draco took Harry's hand within his own slightly bigger one and rubbed the skin of the back of Harry's hand thoughtfully.

"How have you been?" he asked, his gray eyes slowly moving up until they connected with green. Harry smiled, his eyes twinkling in happiness. Around them, soft candles illuminated the room, most likely set up by Draco in an attempt to light the room without allowing someone outside to see that it was in use.

"Well, Hermione's going to kill me for going to see you, but I'm doing fine all the same," Harry said, smiling slightly at the thought of the chocolate-eyed girl. Draco chuckled.

"She's still overprotective, huh?" he questioned. Harry sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes.

"You don't even know the half of it."

Draco smiled and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on the others' nose.

"You love it. Anyway, what's happened since I've been away?"

Harry launched into a long tale, describing the things that happened at Hogwarts while Draco had been on his long mission for the Order. He told him how Luna and Neville finally got together and told him of Ginny's failed attempt to make him fall in love with her. He told him about how Dumbledore still expected great things of him and told him of the baby that Ron and Hermione were expecting.

When he had finally finished regaling his past seven months, Draco had him clutched to his chest again, his hand lightly maneuvering through Harry's hair.

"I missed you, Harry," he whispered. Harry could feel the tears lightly beginning to fall onto his shirt. The green eyed boy smiled to himself and gently pulled Draco's head up so he could place a lingering kiss on his lips.

"I missed you, too."

They stayed there, the silence a welcome reprieve as they clutched one another closer.

"Would you like to go to my place?" Draco proposed. Harry nodded, taking the offered hand with a gentle grin.

Upon leaving the shop so that they could find an apparition point, Draco quickly conjured an umbrella to shield them from the rain.

Later, when they were moving fluidly together on the bed, pants coming from their mouths, for the first time in seven months, they felt united.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **June Word Count - 922**

 **June Fair - Tea Cups - (scenario) Proposal, (object) umbrella, (setting) Knockturn Alley.**

 **The Emotion Challenge - Sad**


	100. Drabble 100: MarcusHermione

**Title of Story: Oppression**

 **Pairing: Marcus Flint/Hermione Granger**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **AN: Firediva0, Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps, reporting for duty in Round 5! :) Howdy partners! This little baby right here was concocted using the Hogwarts Box's prompt (object) textbook. Thank you so much for anyone who takes the time to read this. :D**

* * *

"Marcus, sweetie, can you come here?"

Pausing, Marcus lifted his head, his terrified gray eyes immediately turning to the door. Downstairs, he could hear his mother moving around the kitchen, no doubt picking up the tea tray that she had the house elves prepare. Heart thumping loudly in his chest, Marcus closed his eyes, fervently trying to calm himself down.

Marcus knew that his father was waiting for him downstairs; he knew that the older man would be holding his familiar black and white cane, clutched tightly by fat fingers in an unspoken threat. Gathering what little courage he had, Marcus edged towards the door before forcing himself to move faster, when his mother called for him again. It would not do to make her mad. Exiting his room, he climbed down the stairs and watched as his mother strolled into the living room, her beautiful brown hair done up in an elegant bun and her dress clinging to her curves magnificently.

Just as he predicted, his father was sitting in the armchair by the roaring fireplace, his black and white cane clutched tightly in his hand. Familiar, cold gray eyes bore into Marcus' own, a silent message being passed along.

Marcus gulped, the sound loud in the uncomfortably silent room. He didn't relax, even when his mother lightly placed the tray on the table. His mother, Cornelia, smiled at him. It was cold and cruel and Marcus would have shivered if he wasn't used to this kind of behavior from her.

Sitting down when Cornelia gestured towards the couch, he watched as the woman he had come to hate passed around the tea cups, each one settling on the table with a loud clink.

When she had finally finished with that, she moved towards the couch across from Marcus, making sure that when she sat down on the sofa, there was barely a murmur of sound.

They sat like that for a while, a tense silence kept between them. Moments later, Marcus' father, Marion, finally spoke.

"What is this?" the man asked, gesturing lightly to a paper in his hand. Marcus, who hadn't seen the paper until now, paled, his mouth opening soundlessly to reveal large, white teeth.

"Uh," he began, trying to force himself to say something, _anything_ that would get him out of the beating that his father was no doubt already planning to give him. "I'm sorry?"

Never before had Marcus cursed himself so much. His father's face went blank, and Marcus counted down silently in his head.

 **5…**

 **4…**

 **3…**

 **2…**

 **1…**

He hadn't even seen the strike coming. One moment, his father was sitting in the chair across from him, his face impassive. The next, his father was right in front of him, a loud crack echoing around the room. The fist had made contact with his face so fast that Marcus didn't register the pain until a full moment later. When it finally did register, he recoiled.

Big mistake.

His father yelled, the sound a loud roar ringing through the silence of the room. Suddenly, his cane was in the air, the blunt edge of it coming rapidly towards Marcus' face. The boy had no time to defend himself either.

Up and down, up and down… It was a deadly rhythm that occurred over and over again. Through the hazy fog his surroundings had become, Marcus could see his mother standing behind his father, a smile on her face. Distantly, he could smell the overwhelming scent of iron as it permeated the air, blood from the wounds his father was inflicting on him staining the floor.

Black edges began to surround his vision until, finally, he was consumed by the darkness.

* * *

The next time Marcus opened his eyes, it was to see a letter with his mother's handwriting on his face.

" _My dearest son,_

 _If you're reading this, you have woken up. It's truly a shame that you had to be punished in such a way, but… In the end, we only do it to protect you from yourself. Anyway, this needs to stop, young man. You are a member of the Flint family and, as I'm sure you know, we don't fail. You_ _ **will**_ _get your grades together and if you don't, you'll be disowned. I'm sorry we have to do this to you, dear, but you knew what the consequences were._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Mom"_

Marcus laughed, the sound high-pitched and cold, completely lacking humor. Cornelia was a hypocrite. How dare she act as if she cared and then tell him that he deserves being hit into unconsciousness? Snarling silently to himself, Marcus attempted to stand up but fell back down soon after, a whimper of pain ripping itself out of his throat.

"Dammit," he swore to himself. He tried to get up one more time before he gave up, resigning himself to bed rest with a sigh. His life sucked.

Marcus didn't know what he was going to do. Obviously, he had to pass his next exam, but how was he going to do that? He sucked at magic, and he didn't exactly have any friends he could go to for help.

Sighing in agitation, he thought back to Harry Potter. He probably could have been friends with the boy, had he not treated him so cruelly during the Quidditch matches. Then again, it was probably for the best that they hadn't become friends. If the Boy-Who-Lived were to make contact with him, his parents would most likely attempt to hand him over to the Dark Lord.

For a moment, Marcus couldn't help himself from imagining what it would have been like if he had been sorted into Gryffindor and had been friends with Harry Potter. He mourned the only real chance of friendship he possibly would have gotten, had he just allowed himself to put away his mask. If he had finally been himself and went into Gryffindor, he might have actually had true friends.

A lone tear fell from his cheeks and Marcus vowed that it would be the only tear he shed in mourning.

In the end, he stubbornly ignored the next few tears that fell down his cheeks in tiny trails.

* * *

At the end of winter break, when he was finally allowed to escape from the hellhole he called home, Marcus immediately went to the library. There, he rampaged the shelves, stocking up on all the textbooks that had even the smallest bit of relevance to the topics he was learning.

Not surprisingly, it was there that he met Hermione Granger. Due to his rather wild studying, all of the Slytherins began to associate with him even less than they already had. He didn't mind it either. It was peaceful, being by himself in a corner of the library. However, Granger apparently wouldn't leave a fellow devoted studier by themselves.

By the second week of his studying, the brunette approached his table casually and sat down, merely smiling when the black-haired teen looked at her in confusion and shock. From that day onward, that had become a routine.

Everyday, Granger would sit with him and smile at him whenever he acknowledged her presence. It soon escalated to the point that Hermione would actually engage him in conversation—and she'd become Hermione to him, the name Granger being put aside. Around a week later, she had even begun inviting her friends over. Now, it was an almost regular occurrence to see Marcus, Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Neville, Fred and George at the table in the corner.

At first, it had been weird, sitting next to the Boy-Who-Lived and laughing at the things Hermione said and did, but after a while, the others grew on him as well. Of course, Marcus still didn't allow the Potter boy to get too close in fear of his parents sending him to the Dark Lord, but he _did_ allow himself to talk to Harry whenever the boy was near.

Surprisingly, Harry, Fred and George had forgiven him for all of the mean jabs he had sent their way during Quidditch, and with that final piece of acceptance, Marcus allowed himself to become a part of Hermione and Harry's circle of friends.

Now, however, a week before exams, he was freaking out.

How in the world would he pass his exams? Even with Hermione's help, he didn't feel ready. Oh, Merlin! Was he going to be sent to an orphanage and forced to endure prostitution? Oh, no, what if they instead decided to send him to the Dark Lord as a dummy that they could use to practice spells?!

With all of these questions buzzing in his head, Marcus didn't notice that he was breathing rapidly until Hermione was in his face, her arms held securely on his arms.

"Marcus!" she yelled. Said boy stopped, his gray eyes focusing on her brown ones. "Calm down."

Miraculously, he did.

His breathing became slower and more even and he smiled at her, his own way of telling her that he was alright now.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Hermione smiled, the action lighting up her face. "It's alright," she returned. "Now, can you tell me what happened?"

At first, Marcus wasn't going to tell her. It would have been selfish of him to drag her into his problems. However, when the girl looked at him with her puppy eyes, he was lost. Immediately, he launched into his story and watched as the bookworm nodded every now and then, her face weirdly impassive, given the topic. When he finished, Hermione hugged him close and even shed some tears for him.

"I'm so sorry that you had to go through that," she whispered. Marcus didn't say anything. He merely stayed still and allowed himself to be lost in the gentle rocking of her arms and the apologies that she whispered in his ear. Among them was one declaration.

"No matter what, we're going to help you. I promise you, Marcus."

Tears sprang in his eyes, yet Marcus continued to be silent. The wet patch in Hermione's shirt was answer enough.

 _Thank you._

* * *

It was the day of the first test.

The feeling of butterflies rampaging around in his stomach heavily assaulted Marcus, but he held strong. With a determined air, he hugged Hermione, Harry, Luna, Neville and the twins and thanked them for their help. He took one large breath before disappearing into the testing room.

* * *

It was time.

This was the moment that Marcus would discover his fate.

Taking a deep breath, Marcus was about to move forward when he felt a hand capture his. Looking down, he was surprised when the smiling face of Hermione Granger beamed up at him.

"Let's go," she said.

Marcus nodded. "Together," he responded. The resulting smile was so bright that it was almost blinding.

Together, they walked up to the board of the classroom, both of their breaths held as they searched restlessly among the long list of names dictating those who passed and those who didn't. Finally, after an almost mind-numbing amount of time, they found it.

 **433\. Marcus Flint - Status: Passed**

Marcus paused, his eyes disbelieving as they gazed at the board in front of them. Beside him, Hermione squealed in joy, her lithe arms wrapping around his neck.

"You did it!"

Yes, surprisingly, he had.

* * *

The very next week, when he told his parents about his score in person, he was rewarded by his mother with a tearful hug.

Throughout his mother's squealing, the only thing he could really think about was Hermione's beaming face and the happiness it managed to instill in him.

With a soft smile, he hugged his mother back, pretending for a mere moment that it was his precious bookworm that he was hugging.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Quidditch League - Round 5 - (Object) Textbook from the Hogwarts Box.**

 **Fanfiction Writing Month - June - 1,925 words.**


	101. Drabble 101: RegulusSirius

**Title: In the Meadow, We Lay**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Regulus/Sirius**

 **Rating: Mature-Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 **AN: Welcome to drabble one-hundred and one! Congratulations if you have made it this far! To celebrate, this will be the new format of any and all stories that I post here. Furthermore, the subject matter will be increasing dramatically. For instance, in this chapter, there is smut and incest. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Also, please note that this is the first time that I've ever really published detailed smut. I hope you enjoy it. :)**

* * *

Darkness littered their surroundings, hiding them in its comfortable embrace and masking the treacherous act the two boys were enacting. Above them, the stars twinkled slightly, each one delivering a sliver of light that reigned down upon them like a beacon of hope in a dark storm. The chirps of several crickets could be heard around them; each sound a surprisingly soothing noise that the two boys relished in as they moved fluidly against one another.

Sirius moaned, the sound almost absurdly loud in the near silence that encased the little meadow they were in. Regulus smirked, his gray eyes glinting mischievously as he leaned down, his mouth now mere inches away from Sirius' ear.

"Do you want more, big brother?" he purred, the words a seductive caress against Sirius' ears. The older boy opened his eyes, his own familiar gray orbs glaring up at his brother.

"Harder," he managed to grit out. Regulus grinned, raising one finger to lightly circle the hole he currently occupied.

"Harder, you say?" Regulus taunted. "But, weren't you just telling me that this was wrong? My, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were enjoying this…"

Sirius growled warningly, his own hand coming up to yank harshly at Regulus' shirt.

"Fuck me," he demanded.

"Your wish is my command," the younger brother all but whispered. Immediately, he acted; hiking up Sirius' legs until they rested securely on his shoulders and pushing his hips harder against the other's until his brother was almost completely bent in half. With a ferocious snarl, he began to push in and out, the dirty sound of their coupling echoing throughout the meadow. Sirius whined and mewled, each noise spurring Regulus on as he pushed himself to go faster, eager to hear more of the delicious moans that his brother was releasing. He grunted and growled, shaking in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he entered and left his brother repeatedly. He snaked one hand around their sweaty bodies and began to jerk his brother off, a self-satisfied smile curling along his lips when Sirius screamed out his orgasm, the clenching and unclenching of his hole a welcome feeling as it forced Regulus' own orgasm out of him.

Pulling out from his brother's now placid body, Regulus allowed himself to collapse on the ground. He panted harshly, utterly exhausted beyond belief, and smiled when Sirius pulled him to him, their bodies flush against one another as they fought to regain breath together. Finally, when they were able to breathe properly, Regulus took his brother's hand within his own, placing a small kiss on the chest that his head rested against.

"I love you, Siri," he whispered. "I don't care if this is wrong. Nothing can keep me from you, not even our parents."

Sirius was silent for a long time but when he finally did answer, his voice was hoarse with emotion.

"Go to sleep, Reggie," he returned.

Regulus closed his eyes, his brother's unspoken words as clear as day.

 _I love you, too._

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Incest Challenge 2 – Entry 1 – Regulus/Sirius**

 **June Word Count: 508**


	102. Drabble 102: RemusHermione

**Title: My Wolf**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Remus/Hermione**

 **Rating: Mature-Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"Oh, look," Malfoy remarked, looking at Hermione appraisingly. "It looks like the mud-blood is with the wolf. I guess it's true what they say. Like minded creatures can't help but come together."

The surrounding students laughed, each one acting as if the boy had told the funniest joke in the world. Hermione, however, looked at Malfoy with a raised eyebrow.

"It takes one to know one, right?" she questioned icily. Malfoy paused, his gray eyes glaring at her.

"Are you calling me an animal, Granger?" he asked, all humor now gone from his demeanor. Hermione smirked.

"Why, of course. After all, you _are_ a mere snake that answers to his master, right?"

Malfoy's entire face erupted in flames.

"How dare you?!" he screeched. "When my father hears about this, you-"

"Blah, blah, blah, I'll regret this. Come on, Malfoy, we've been through this hundreds of times. Get a new phrase, won't you?" With that said, Hermione turned to the wide eyed Remus, obviously dismissing the other. Malfoy's face turned even redder and he was about to say something else when he caught sight of the threatening gleam in Remus' now amber tinted eyes. Taking a wise step back, he stared for a minute before snorting in disbelief and waving his hand dismissively.

"You know what?" he said aloud. "You're not even worth my time."

He walked away, oblivious to the fact that Hermione rolled her eyes at his declaration. When he was fully out of hearing range, Hermione turned to Remus, giving the man a soft smile.

"Now?" she questioned. "Where were we?"

Before Remus could respond, her lips covered his own and she pushed him against the wall. Between their heated kisses, she couldn't help but smirk.

"Wow," she remarked, leaning back in to give him another smoldering kiss. "The whole wolf thing _definitely_ works to my benefit."

Secretly, Remus admitted to himself that Hermione was right.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **10 Pairings Challenge – Entry 1 – Hermione/Remus.**

 **Fanfiction Word Count – June – 317.**


	103. Drabble 103: RudolphusBellatrix

**Title: On the Brink**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Rudolphus/Bellatrix**

 **Rating: Mature-Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 **Warnings: Mentions of rape, torture, and this is an alternate reality.**

 **AN: Firediva0, Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps, presents her story, On the Brink, to the judges for Round 6 of Quidditch League. Her virtue was Temperance. This has a word count of 1,185.**

* * *

Sometimes, it's harder to be someone's friend rather than their enemy. When you are friends with someone, you're obligated to remain loyal, obligated to listen to their woes and to support them no matter what. When you're enemies, you're allowed to say anything you want, allowed to let them know exactly what you think and how you feel.

Sometimes, Rabastan wished that he and his brother were not brothers; he wished that he were able to tell his brother exactly what he felt, and he wished that he could tell him everything that he needed to.

At the moment, he couldn't, and that broke his heart more than anything.

His brother's girlfriend, Bellatrix, was no good for him, and while Rabastan desperately wanted to tell his brother that; he couldn't.

Rudolphus had fallen too deep, too fast. He was lost; the vast and daunting ocean of love had managed to swallow him whole.

Rabastan wished that he could say something— _anything_ —to his brother that would stop his rapidly descending fall to the very depths of that ocean, but he couldn't.

Love, albeit a different kind, gripped him in its hold. He was bound by his desire to remain loyal to his brother, bound by the desire to ensure that his brother was happy.

Bellatrix Black was not right for his dearest brother, but that wasn't to say that she didn't make him happy. No, the Black heiress managed to make Rudolphus happier than Rabastan had ever seen him and the younger Lestrange didn't know what to do.

Should he take his brother's happiness in an effort to save him from impending doom, or should he allow his brother to live this beautiful nightmare?

His eyes traveling to the cabinet where his father's Firewhisky was stored, Rabastan moved before he could stop himself. He took one of the bottles and moved to his room, knowing that if he was caught, he would be in serious trouble. Soon enough, he was passed out on his bedroom floor, an empty bottle of whisky lying innocently beside him.

* * *

"What?" said Rabastan. "What did you say?"

Rudolphus looked at his younger brother, his eyebrow raised in a silent question. "I said," he began, "that I proposed to Bellatrix last nig-"

"Yeah, I heard that," Rabastan cut in impatiently. "What'd you say after that."

"She said yes," Rudolphus said, rolling his eyes. "Look, 'Bastan, seriously. What is your problem? Whenever I tell you about Bellatrix, your mood changes abruptly."

"My problem?" Rabastan echoed, his eyes glinting slightly. He could feel his magic crackling beneath his skin. He wanted to tell his brother exactly what his _'problem'_ was, but he knew he couldn't.

Rodulphus had looked so happy when he had first broke the news. The smile that had been on his face had been absolutely brilliant and the worry lines that constantly lingered along the edges of his lips had been nowhere to be seen.

He still looked happy and Rabastan loathed himself for what came out of his mouth next.

"You know what?" he asked. "I think I'm coming down with something."

At once, Rudolphus looked concerned. He moved forward, one of his big hands coming up to rest gently along Rabastan's forehead.

"You don't have a fever," Rudolphus muttered. "Do you want to go lie down?"

Rabastan nodded, giving a fake smile to his brother before he walked to his room, the weight in his chest growing heavier and heavier with every step.

Later, when he was sure he had heard his brother leave the house, he went back into the kitchen and grabbed another bottle.

In the morning, when he woke up with a killer hangover, he refused to think about what had caused it.

* * *

The day his brother was taken away from him forever was one that Rabastan would never forget.

Bellatrix had looked beautiful in her all white gown and Rudolphus had looked dashing in his black suit. When Bellatrix had walked down the aisle, they had even managed to arrange for black rose petals to be thrown by her younger sister, Narcissa.

It had been a magnificent occasion and, when the two lovers said their vows, all of the guest had shed a tear because of the raw emotion that was exhibited.

Rabastan knew differently, though.

He knew that Bellatrix's vows were lies. He knew what she had in store for his brother. When the pastor had asked for those opposed to the marriage to speak, Rabastan opened his mouth, the weight in his chest heavier than ever before.

However, upon seeing the small smile on his brother's face, he closed it, the mere thought of taking away the relaxed air that his brother maintained because of his wife to be, sickening him to the very core.

Since no one opposed, the two were told to kiss, the promise of everlasting love being made with it.

Later that night, when his brother was preparing to go on his honeymoon, Rabastan hugged him before going home. Once there, he broke down, his carefully crafted walls breaking before his very eyes.

He screamed, he yelled, he cried, and he thrashed, yet his brother didn't walk through the door; his brother never came.

The next morning, he woke yet again to an empty bottle.

* * *

Rabastan supposed that he should have expected this. He had always known that Bellatrix would do something horrible to his brother. He should have suspected that she would ultimately be the cause of his brother's demise.

The bitch had the audacity to claim that it was self-defense. According to her, Rudolphus had come to her, drunk out of his mind and screaming profanities. According to her, Rudolphus had violated her in every aspect.

The Ministry believed her. After all, she was a woman and women couldn't protect themselves, right? Women, even witches, were so frail that they could not stop a grown wizard if he were to attempt to hurt her. Of course, it wasn't like Bellatrix wasn't a crazy bitch in the first place who was more likely to be the abuser than the abused. No, that simply _wasn't_ possible. Thus, his brother's death was cast aside.

This time, rather than breaking down, Rabastan felt numb.

This time, he didn't go to the kitchen.

This time, he didn't grab the bottle of firewhisky.

No, this time, he grabbed his wand and with a determined glint in his eye, he apparated over to the Malfoy abode. With a devilish grin, he stormed inside, already knowing _exactly_ where Bellatrix would be.

That day, Rabastan Lestrange became a murder; that day, Rabastan Lestrange put down his alcohol and allowed all of his feelings to mold themselves into the shape of a big, angry monster.

That day, Malfoy Manor was burnt to the ground and Bellatrix Lestrange was found hanging on the last standing door frame, her body naked and laced with scars, the most prominent of them all being one on her stomach that spelled out the word 'liar' in big, bold letters.

Rabastan Lestrange was never heard from again and the only thing left in his wake, were broken bottles of firewhisky.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading!**


	104. Drabble 104: RegulusSirius

**Title: I Miss You, Regulus**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Regulus/Sirius**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.  
**

* * *

 _"When all is said and done, no matter how much I want to hate you, I'll still love you."_

* * *

I love you, Regulus.

You were everything to me. Unlike everyone else, I trusted you. When Mother's wicked love destroyed me, your intoxicating affection resurrected me. I would have done anything for you... It's a shame that you wouldn't have returned the favor.

Why did you betray me, Regulus? Why did you give me up to _him_ of all people when you knew that I was trying to escape the darkness? How could you condone the actions of this monster after everything he has done to us?

I'm screaming, my loud wails bouncing off the walls and echoing maddeningly throughout my small dungeon. You're here with me, watching, waiting, as the vile man before me continues to torture me in the hopes of obtaining information.

What happened to us? What happened to the loyalty we once felt for each other? Was it just a tragic dream or a beautiful nightmare?

I miss you, Regulus. I miss the times when you would hold me to you, promising me of a future that we both knew would never occur. I miss the times when you would pin me against the wall, forcing your tongue deep in my mouth and demanding that I be yours. I miss the times when we went to Hogwarts and snuck around, desperately wishing for the others' presence despite the fact that we were supposedly enemies.

I miss you, Regulus.

I love you, Regulus

I need you, Regulus.

You're not with me, Regulus.

The man's screaming at me, his snake-like crimson eyes burning in anger. The Death Eaters are all cheering, hoping that their master will end my pitiful existence in the most painful way.

Do you know that I'm not paying them any mind? Do you know that my eyes are locked on your own familiar gray ones? Do you know that with every twitch his Cruciatus manages to cause within my body, I'm remembering the nights that you embraced me? Do you know that amidst the pain filled tears are ones filled with beautiful nostalgia?

I miss you, Regulus...

Do you miss me?

Even with the blinding green light that encases the room and hits me square in the chest, my eyes connect with yours.

 _I love you, 'Ulus._

I don't need to live longer in order to know that within your once cold gray eyes are a myriad of emotions. The most prominent being heartbreak.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Emotion Challenge - #27. Heartbreak**

 **Pairing the Character Drabble Competition - Week 6 - Regulus Black/Sirius Black**

 **Pocket Mortys Competition - Week 1 - #28. Green Shirt Morty - Green in any sense of the word (word, theme, color, emotion, etc.)**

 **The Incest Competition 2 - Regulus/Sirius - Entry 2**

 **June Word Count - 419**


	105. Drabble 105: PeterJames

**Title: Look At Me**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Peter/James**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

He was invisible.

People never talked about James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus. No, it was always James, Sirius, and Remus. If he was lucky, he would have a mere mention. Never before had Peter been considered a vital part of the Marauders. To others, even if he didn't exist, the Marauders' legacy would live on.

Peter could have dealt with that. Sure, he didn't like it, but he wouldn't get in a tizzy over it. No one knew them for what they really were; they didn't know who the _real_ Marauders were and that was okay. Peter didn't care either way. As long as James, Sirius, and Remus knew, he was perfectly fine with that.

However, when James, his beloved and hilarious role model, _dared_ to get caught up in the fame and forgot about him, Peter decided that things simply couldn't continue how they were.

Mad with anger, Peter went to the dorms, concocting a beautifully horrid plan.

James would rue the day he forgot about him. This, Peter would make sure of.

* * *

Peter watched as James slowly came to with eager anticipation. The other teen had been ignoring him for far too long. Finally, Peter would be the center of his universe; something that he would take _full_ advantage of.

"Good morning, James," he purred, feeling a morbid sort of delight when the teen looked at him with fear.

"P-peter," James stated, eyes wide with fright. "Please, don't do this."

Peter tutted, shaking his head and looked at James with disappointment clear in his eyes.

"Why wouldn't I?" he questioned. "I've been looking forward to this for _far_ too long."

As if to prove his point, the brown haired teen gently raked his nails down James' chest. The sheer terror in the other's eyes was enough to make Peter moan delightedly.

"I love it when you're scared," the mousy brunette purred. "Promise me, you'll scream?"

James' answering rage filled yell was all he needed to hear.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Emotion Challenge - #9. Scared**

 **Pairing the Character Drabble Competition - Week 7 - Peter Pettigrew/James Potter**

 **June Word Count - 328**


	106. Drabble 106: NevilleHarry

**Title: Craving Your Touch**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Neville/Harry**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

 **~Neville's POV~**

* * *

I watch, nervousness and anticipation flowing through my veins, as Harry delivers spell after spell at the Dark Lord's figure. Said man is screaming, the force of his rage manifesting itself into dazzling and colorful spells. They're going at it with everything they have and everyone in the immediate area is watching, their mouths open as two of the most powerful wizards in existence go at it.

There is no clear winner at the moment and the fight continues. We're watching and watching, the minutes passing by in a blur as spell after deadly spell is blocked and dodged. It's amazing and I'm in awe of how Harry, my sweet and caring boyfriend, could possibly be so ferocious.

His lips are pulled back into a snarl, his green eyes flashing dangerously as he fires yet another onslaught of spells, barely dodging the ones sent his way by his opponent.

Lord Voldemort is no better. He's also snarling viciously, his pale skin standing out amongst the bright reds and blues that their spells use to brighten the area.

They're beautiful in their dangerousness and I know that I'm not the only one who thinks so.

Finally, after several minutes pass, one final bright purple light flashes, signaling the end of the duel. Utter silence rings out and everyone waits, their breath held as the smoke slowly clears. When we're finally able to see a semblance of what's in front of us, I gasp in horror, my blood freezing in my veins.

People are screaming and panicking, their voices loud with utter desperation, but I'm immune to them.

Instead, I stare straight ahead, my eyes locked on the barely breathing figure of my boyfriend.

"Harry…," I mouth silently, hands clenching and unclenching by my sides. A minute goes by and then it hits me. Immediately, I run to him, pushing anyone in my way in an effort to get to him. Tears cloud my eyes and a myriad of emotions penetrate my mind as I finally reach him.

Rage, sadness, pain, horror…

"Harry," I say desperately, pulling him to me. He doesn't move nor does he respond. Terror grips me in its hold.

"No!" I yell, the tears finally falling. "No, Harry… No, please… Open your eyes, love... Please, open your eyes…!"

No one hears my pleas.

* * *

"Is he going to be okay?" I ask the healer anxiously. Mrs. Jenkins smiles at me gently, her eyes softening as they look at me. I hate that. I don't like how she looks at me as if I'm a little kid. I know I'm a mess; I don't need her sympathy.

"He's going to be fine, sweetie," she tells me. I look at her, the tears from before returning. Harry was going to be okay…! I look down, the sheer force of my relief causing me to tremble.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I look up only to see Mrs. Jenkins' kind face.

"You're a good kid," she says. I shake my head. If I were a good kid, I would have helped Harry more than I did. I would have fought harder. If I were a good kid, I would have done something to stop Harry from ending up like this.

"Anyway," I begin, forcing myself to break away from that line of thought. "When is he going to wake up?"

Mrs. Jenkins frowns and turns her head towards Harry.

"I don't know," she whispers honestly. My heart stops in my chest.

"What do you mean?" I question. She looks at me, pity shining in her eyes.

"Your friend had maintained severe head damage… While I know that we've taken care of most of it, I'm worried about his state of mind. Theoretically, Harry should wake within the hour. However, looking at his data, it seems that's not going to be possible."

"No…" I look at her, shaking my head over and over. She has to be lying, right? Harry's going to wake up, soon. He has to. She nods her head and her gaze softens even more. I hear a faint ringing in my head. Harry's going to be okay. He's going to wake up soon, regardless of what the healer says.

I stay.

...and stay.

...and stay.

...and stay even longer.

Harry never wakes up.

* * *

A month has gone by.

I stare at Harry, my tears silently falling down my face.

He lays there on the stark white hospital sheets, his face devoid of its usual rosy pink hue. His eyes are closed and his chest moves every so often, the little compressor on his mouth attached to the oxygen tank allowing him to breathe.

Mrs. Jenkins comes a few times and changes his bandages every so often, but she doesn't greet me anymore; not since the time that I lashed out and hit her.

Looking back on it, I know that I should regret it. No matter what, I shouldn't be taking my anger out on anyone. However, the pity… I need it to stop. I can't stand it; can't stand the little looks she sends me when she thinks I'm not looking; can't stand the little remarks she sends about me going home and getting rest.

Doesn't she know that I can't?

If I leave Harry, it'd make things real.

Harry's gonna wake up soon.

One day, I'm going to hold him in my arms again.

That day hasn't come yet.

* * *

Three months have gone by…

Harry's friends occasionally visit him and talk to his comatose body, but eventually they go.

I don't understand how they can do that. How could they possibly leave him here? How could they simply move on and continue living their lives while the person who made it all possible lays in a hospital bed, wasting away?

St. Mungo's continues to try and force me out; apparently I'm overstaying my welcome, but I resist. I need to see Harry. I need to be here when he opens up his eyes.

Please, Harry… Open your eyes. I miss you. I need you.

I love you, Harry. Don't you love me too?

* * *

Finally, in the fifth month, Harry opens his eyes.

At the time, I'm sleeping next to him, tears pouring down my face due to the nightmares. I feel a warm hand wipe away my tears and stiffen. ...Could it be?

I open my eyes slowly, hoping and praying that it's not yet another delusion.

It' s not.

Harry is sitting upright, his warm green eyes boring into my own brown ones.

"Hello, Neville," he says, his voice roughened with sleep. "I've missed you."

At once, all of the loneliness that I've felt all of these months disappeared.

Harry was here!

He was finally awake!

Never before have I been happier.

"I love you," I whisper, clutching his hand tightly to my chest. He smiles.

"I love you, too."

Nothing could ever compare to the sheer elation I felt in that moment.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Charms Assignment 1 - Write about someone who won't wake up.**

 **July Event - The Chosen Ones - Challenge - Write as many Neville Longbottom OR Harry Potter stories as you can. MC of this fic: Neville.**

 **Emotion Challenge - #11. Exhausted**

 **Pocket Morty's Competition - #90 - Asleep Morty - Write about someone who won't wake up.**

 **June Word Count - 1158**


	107. Drabble 107: NevilleHarry

**Title: Bring Me to Life**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Neville/Harry**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 **Key:**

 _ **Italics - Past**_

 **Regular - Present**

* * *

 **~Neville's POV~**

* * *

I hold him in my arms, clutching him even harder to my chest when I feel him trembling. Harry's crying, his face a blotchy red mess as he struggles to breathe through his powerful sobs. His tears leave stains on my shirt, but I don't care.

My friend is hurt and I'm going to comfort him.

* * *

 _Eyes reminiscent of green jewels look at me, the icy warning within them causing me to frown._

 _"Excuse me," the boy whispers, pushing past me on the stairs. I stand there, the haunting image of dead green eyes stuck in my head._

* * *

"What happened to you, precious?" I ask myself, looking down at the exhausted figure sleeping in my arms. "What made you lose it so badly?"

No answer comes.

* * *

 _The boy from before is back. His eyes are the same dead shade of green as before and it seems like he's only grown even more detached. Briefly, I wonder what could have possibly have happened to make him look so cold. No answer comes and before I can even think of asking, the boy sweeps out of the room, his figure slowly disappearing as the door begins to close._

* * *

 _"Who is he?" I ask Luna, watching in fascination as the boy pushes Ron back harshly._

 _"Never get close to me again," the boy sneers. He leaves the room, his head held high. It seems as if he's completely unaware of the loud chatter of his classmates as they discuss what just happened._

 _"That's Harry Potter," Luna begins, her melodic voice a nice reprieve from the incessant talking around us. "He's not normally like this, but…"_

 _She trails off and stares listlessly ahead, a frown slowly forming on her lips. I decide not to pressure her for more. She obviously doesn't want to say more on the subject._

 _Instead, I allow my mind to slowly caress the boy's name._

 _"Harry Potter," I whisper to myself, testing out the name on my tongue. It feels nice, almost like a silky caress._

 _"One day," I say to myself. "I'm going to figure out why you look so sad when you walked out of here."_

 _The image of slightly wet green eyes_ _crosses my mind. It had only been a glimpse, but I'm sure that when he was walking out of the room, Harry was actually on the verge of tears._

* * *

 _"What do you want?" Harry asks, glaring at me. I stand firm, my_ body guarding _the exit._

 _"I've been watching you," I remark. Harry rolls his eyes._

 _"What is this?" he questions. "A bad muggle movie?"_

 _I can't help but smile slightly._

 _"No, but this is an interrogation," I respond. Harry scowls._

 _"What, you want to know why the big, bad Boy Who Lives won't kill Voldemort?" he sneers. I shake my head._

 _"No, I want to know why this so-called big, bad Boy Who Lives always looks like he wants to cry."_

 _He stiffens, his gaze sharpening to the point that the phrase 'if looks could kill' comes to mind._

 _"I don't," he refutes. I scoff._

 _"Don't lie to me, Harry. When you told Ron to leave you alone, you walked out of the Common Room nearly in tears."_

 _At once, his whole demeanor shifts yet again. He relaxes, looking at me in wary amusement._

 _"Oh?" he questions. "Was this before or after you inhaled shrooms? You know, I've heard that you're a herbology freak. Maybe, you've been around too many weeds."_

 _That hurts a little but I ignore the sting, determined to get a glimpse of the real Harry._

 _"I may be a Herbology freak, but at least I'm honest about how I feel."_

 _Harry stays silent and stares at me, taking me seriously for the first time today._

 _"Do you really want to know?" he asks me, looking me straight in the eyes. I nod._

 _"Fine," he acquiesces. His eyes grow colder and the aura in the room immediately becomes darker._

 _"In that case, I'll tell you the brutal truth. Don't say I didn't warn you."_

 _I nod again._

 _"If you must know, I bring death to everyone around me. I'm a horrible person and deserve to die. However, every time I try, someone stops me! Is this what you wanted to hear? Did you truly want to hear a broken man's cry? Did you really want to hear about the fact that I want to die but no one will let me do it? I'm tired. I don't want to live anymore, BUT NO ONE WILL LET ME DIE!"_

 _Harry's screaming, the tears back in his eyes. I watch him, barely breathing. Painful remorse fills me and I watch, my mind furiously trying to piece things together. Finally, I could see things that I couldn't see before._

 _I can see the self-loathing that Harry harbored; can see the true pain that reflected in Harry's eyes as he pushed his best friend away; can see the loneliness that lingers in his gaze._

 _Before I could respond, Harry pushes me to the side abruptly and rushes out._

 _"Harry!" I call. He doesn't hear me._

* * *

 _The next day, all I can feel is remorse. I shouldn't have cornered him like that._

 _Quickly, I gather my things and go to him. I need to tell him that I'm sorry; I need to tell him that I care even if he thinks no one else does. Harry can't die; he needs to see this._

 _I don't know when he became so important to me, but I can't help it now. He's my friend; I have to help him._

 _I find him outside by the lake, his eyes gazing into it listlessly. He's not really seeing it, but that's perfect for what I'm going to do. Stealthily, I sneak towards him and sit down behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Immediately, he stiffens and begins to struggle, but I refuse to back down._

 _"Harry," I say urgently. "Don't fight it."_

 _He snarls angrily._

 _"Yesterday wasn't enough for you?" he asks in disbelief. I shake my head despite the fact that he can't see it._

 _"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have pressured you."_

 _"Damn straight," he retorts. "Now, let me go."_

 _I shake my head again._

 _"Harry, I want you to know that even if you choose to get close to me, I won't die, okay? Please trust me, Harry. I promise you; I won't die and leave you like everyone else. I'll always be here for you."_

 _Harry scoffs, yet he reluctantly relaxes against me._

 _"I don't even know your name, yet you're promising such things?" he questions. I smile. This is a good sign._

 _"Neville," I whisper. "Neville Longbottom."_

 _Harry huffs._

 _"Well, Neville," he begins. "If you're going to keep your word, then stay here."_

 _Although he can't see it, I smile._

 _"Of course."_

* * *

 _Over the next few weeks, Harry and I grow closer. Reluctantly, he's beginning to accept me as a friend. Now, it's common to see us near each other._

 _Unlike everyone else, I get to see Harry smile and laugh on a daily basis. It's nice and leaves a warm feeling in my chest._

 _"Neville, are you listening?" Harry asks from his place in my lap. I look at him and nod. He stares at me for a moment longer before he continues speaking. I smile silently to myself. Sure, we don't have a typical friendship. After all, friends aren't supposed to sit in each others laps all of the time, but for us, that's not a problem. I like it when Harry sits in my lap._

 _Our conversation continues and throughout it, I can't help but thank Merlin for giving me such an adorable friend._

* * *

 _When I go to the dorm late at night, prepared to sleep, I'm not expecting to see Harry curled up in a ball on my bed. He's sobbing, the tears on his face falling freely due to his despair. Immediately, I pull him into my arms, whispering sweet nothings in his ears in the hopes that he'll calm down._

 _He doesn't and eventually he falls asleep in my hold._

 _"What happened to you, precious?" I ask myself, looking down at the exhausted figure sleeping in my arms. "What made you lose it so badly?"_

 _No answer comes._

* * *

When Harry finally wakes up, he jumps in my lap and hugs me desperately.

"Neville," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. I hold him to me and press a kiss on the side of his forehead.

"I'm right here," I console.

"You died," he mumbles. I look down, pulling his chin up so that I can look into distraught green eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. Harry shivers, as if the mere memory is enough to make him want to ball his eyes out.

"In my dreams, you were killed by Voldemort," he elaborates, a sob ripping itself out of his throat. I pull him impossibly closer.

"I promised you that I would never leave your side," I gently remind him. "I didn't lie, Harry. Voldemort won't take me from you."

Harry trembles in my hold.

"I love you, Neville," he whispers to me. I smile gently at him.

"I love you too, Harry."

Sure, it's not a conventional friendship, but I'll always be there for Harry.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Herbology Assignment 1 - Write about someone bringing a change to a person's cold heart.**

 **July Event - The Chosen Ones - Challenge - Write as many Neville Longbottom OR Harry Potter stories as you can. MC of this fic: Neville.**

 **Emotion Challenge - #38. Depressed**

 **June Word Count - 1547**


	108. Drabble 108: NevilleHarry

**Title: Night Terrors**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Neville/Harry**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

 **~Neville's POV~**

* * *

Harry's screaming.

That's the first thing I notice upon waking up. Immediately, opening my eyes, I force myself to get up and make my way to his bed. When I get there, worry and panic assault me. He's thrashing and his nails are ruthlessly clawing at his closed eyelids, desperately trying to stop the horrible images he's seeing. Each scream echoes in my ears, haunting me and pushing me to act.

I take a hold of his arms and pin them down to the bed. However, he's pushing against me, his legs kicking out in delirious anger. I'm forced to wedge my legs between his, abruptly stopping any movement from him that he may attempt in order to get me off.

His screams grow louder and he throws his head back, shaking it rapidly side to side every few seconds. Harry's nails are digging into his hands from where's he clenched them, and I know that I need to wake him up or he'll hurt himself. However, I don't know how I'd do it without hurting him…

Well, I actually do, but Harry may just castrate me when he wakes up. Looking down at him, I briefly contemplate. If I do this, Harry will wake up; there's no doubt that he will. If I don't do this, Harry will have to suffer through the nightmares and that's unacceptable.

Looking up, I send a quick prayer to Merlin. Hopefully, Harry won't rip my balls off for doing something to him.

Slowly shifting my arms until one of them pinned down both of his, I bring my other arm to slowly caress his body. Unfortunately, he's still screaming. Bringing my hand even further down, I don't stop until I reach his crotch. Then, I lightly caress him through his jeans, hoping that the pleasurable sensations I'm causing him will distract him from the painful ones.

At once, Harry stops screaming, his face blanching entirely. I continue to caress him, instead adding a little more pressure. He moans involuntarily, arching into my touch, and I can't help but stare.

I add more pressure, relishing in the broken gasp he releases and continue to stroke him, my original purpose long forgotten.

We continue like that, Harry moaning and arching beneath me until he finally climaxes into his pajama pants with a soft and sleepy groan. I'm just about to stand up and leave when a hand grips my arm.

"Neville," Harry whispers. I pause, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. The only thing that's running through my head is that Harry's going to kill me. "Why didn't we do that earlier?"

Harry doesn't know why I hit him in the head; maybe that's for the best?

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Charms Assignment 1 Extra Credit - Write about someone using a creative way to wake someone up.**

 **July Event - The Chosen Ones - Challenge - Write as many Neville Longbottom OR Harry Potter stories as you can. MC of this fic: Neville.**

 **June Word Count - 452**


	109. Drabble 109: NevilleHarry

**Title: Companions Until the Bitter End**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Neville/Harry**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

 **~Neville's POV~**

* * *

In the bleak world we live in, I don't doubt that there are some truly horrible people out there. It pains me, yes, but I won't deny that they exist. In a society, there will always be the occasional terrible soul, and I've grown used to that. By now, I've accepted that. However, you? Harry, you're not bad, and it pains me that you think you are.

We're sitting outside in our spot by the lake. The wind blows by us, ruffling our hair and saving us from the summer heat. You're in my lap, your back pressed against my chest, and we're simply gazing into the water.

I don't know how it came up and that worries me. How long have you been thinking like this?

"Neville," you say, refusing to look at me. "If I ever do something stupid, can you promise me that you'll take me down?"

I stare at you unblinkingly, your words slowly setting in.

"What?" I ask, my eyes wide with shock. I attempt to pull your chin towards me in an effort to see your face, but you refuse. You stubbornly continue to look forward, your jaw clenched tightly.

"I said," you elaborate, "If I go on a rampage or lose my mind, can you promise me that you'll stop me right then and there?"

"Wait, stop you how?" I question, a sinking feeling making itself known in the pit of my stomach.

"You have to kill me," you whisper. You refuse to look at me, and I'm happy that you do. I don't want you to see the raw pain that covers every inch of my expression.

"I can't do that," I refute. You turn towards me, your eyes pleading.

"Please!" you beg. "I can't bare to hurt anyone else!"

I stare at you and see the heartbreaking sadness in your gaze. For a moment, I wonder why you would even ask this of me? Don't you know that doing this will break my heart? This isn't something that I can promise yo-

Ah, there it goes.

The self-loathing, the trust, the pain…

That's why you asked me, isn't it?

I'm the only one that you trust enough for this. Everyone else, you think would hesitate, but me…? You know that I'd be bound by my loyalty for you.

I look down at my hands, ignoring the hard stare you're leveling at me. I could help you; perhaps even save you from causing yourself even more emotional distress. However, what would the cost be? Me losing my soul?

I want to voice my concerns, so I look up. Though, as soon as my eyes meet your own, I know that I can't.

You're broken. You need me to promise this and I can't find it in myself to deny you.

I nod shakily and you smile gratefully at me.

"Thank you, Nev," you whisper. You sound so relieved; so happy, and that breaks my heart. You shouldn't have to think about things like this. You shouldn't have to even know about such a dire method.

The really sad thing is that I can't even tell you that, Harry. Instead, I clutch you to my chest, hoping and praying that I will never have to fulfill that promise.

However, we both know that my wish is in vain.

 _I love you, Harry,_ I think. _I'm so sorry that you've been given this life._

A tear falls from my eye, yet I ignore your worried questions.

 _Don't worry about me. For once, think about yourself._

I know that you won't; something that makes me cry even harder.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Defense Against the Dark Arts - Task 2 - Assignment 1 - Write about the trust between two people and only two people. My extra prompt was (emotion) frustration, which was felt, not written explicitly.**

 **July Event - The Chosen Ones - Challenge - Write as many Neville Longbottom OR Harry Potter stories as you can. MC of this fic: Neville.**

 **July Word Count - 604**


	110. Drabble 110: NevilleHarry

**Title: Falling In Love**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Neville/Harry**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Harry had never expected to fall in love.

Never in his life, had he ever thought he would find the one person that he would crave to spend eternity with; never in his life had he dared to imagine living past his eighth year.

Now, though? He was so very happy that he had.

Neville Longbottom, perhaps one of the most awkward people he had ever met, had come to him after the war. Harry hadn't been expecting him. After all, the other teen still had to deal with his parents and grandmother. Plus, he had to worry about getting his life together. However, despite all of the reasons why Neville shouldn't have come to see him, the fact of the matter is that he did.

Looking back on it, Harry's happy that he did. After all, without Neville coming back, he probably would have never gotten the chance to love and be loved in return.

"Harry!" someone screamed. Said boy smiled, his face taking on a slightly red hue as he made his way to the front door. When he opened it, he came face to face with Neville. The other boy was smiling widely, a small blush on his cheeks as he extended a small bouquet of roses towards Harry.

The Boy Who Lived grinned, accepting the flowers graciously, and pressed a small kiss on Neville's cheek.

"Thanks, Nev," he said, going to the kitchen and fetching a vase he could place the beautiful flowers in. Neville grinned, a self-satisfied glint in his eyes.

"Shall we?" he asked, extending his arm. Harry smiled wider and made his way back to him, taking the offered limb with excitement.

"We shall," he said cheekily. Stepping closer, Harry allowed Neville to apparate them both, using it as an excuse to cling tightly to his boyfriend. When they made it to Hogsmeade, he reluctantly pulled himself away, his hand stubbornly holding Neville's own.

Once there, they made their way throughout the alley, stepping into any store that caught their fancy. They held hands and placed chaste kisses on each other's faces, relishing in the fact that finally - even after going through so much pain and suffering - they could find happiness.

That day, they got to know each other on a more personal level and, at the end of the night, they bestowed upon one another two identical rings that they placed on necklaces. To them, the rings were a symbol of their budding love.

At the end of the night, the two apparated back to Harry's place and cuddled in his bed, each of them thanking Merlin for the happiness he bestowed upon them.

Finally, they had found love.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Herbology - Extra Credit - Assignment 1 - Write about your characters falling in love. Alt, write about their first date. *Note - This is sort of a mixture of both.**

 **July Event - The Chosen Ones - Challenge - Write as many Neville Longbottom OR Harry Potter stories as you can. MC of this fic: Harry**

 **July Word Count -448**


	111. Drabble 111: VoldemortHarry

**Title: Enveloped by Flames**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Voldemort/Harry**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

I'm going to die here.

That is my only thought as the flames rise higher and higher, coming closer and closer to where I lay wounded on the floor. Tears pour from my eyes and I'm trembling because of the sheer amount of pain that courses through me.

I don't want to die. There's so much I have to live for.

Potter stands in front of me, his green eyes lighting up with a deadly fire. He's determined to end this; determined to finally be rid of me once and for all. My wand is held tightly in his grip, taunting me with its closeness. I can't get to it; not without Potter pushing me back with a ferocious spell, that is. His magic is crackling through the air, its warning as clear as day.

He watches me, a protective bubble protecting him from the flames, as I die slowly. The smoke is rising in my lungs and I'm coughing.

"Please," I reduce myself to begging. Hoping, praying that the stories are true. Hoping that, even though I am his enemy, Potter will save me from such a fate.

He laughs, the sound cold and ruthless.

"After all of the pain you have caused me, you think I'm going to save you?" he asks. I look at him pleadingly.

"If you let me live," I attempt to persuade. "I'll allow you to join my cause."

He laughs again, his face scrunched up in disbelief.

"You've caused immeasurable destruction and pain, Voldemort, and for that, you must die."

He turns, heading towards the door. The flames around me rise higher and higher, their smoke beginning to choke me even more. I'm screaming at his back, yelling and yelling in the hopes that he will turn around.

"Don't leave me!" I yell. "YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE!"

The only thing I hear before the flames envelop me is his cold, hard laugh.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Speed Drabble - Try 1 - Destruction, Pain, Fire - 1 Hour**

 **July Event - Challenge - Harry Potter as MC.**

 **July Word Count - 320**


	112. Drabble 112: VoldemortAbraxas

**Title: Betrayal**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Voldemort/Abraxas**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 ***Note - This is in Riddle Era. Thus, Tom hasn't lost too many parts of his soul. This, of course, leads to him being more emotional (though no less cold) than Voldemort. He _does_ value his followers' loyalty at this time. Basically, he may seem a little OOC. **

* * *

"Your hands are stained with blood," Abraxas says, shivering. I simply stare at him, silently commanding him to elaborate. "You don't regret it?"

Shrugging, I absentmindedly caress my book with my thumb.

"Why should I?" I ask curiously. His eyes go wide and his lips part in shock.

"You're killing people," he states in a matter of fact tone. Again, I shrug.

"Yes," I concede. "That's why I make sure that they deserve it first."

"What determines whether or not they deserve it, Tom? One day, are you going to turn on your followers because you deem that we 'deserve' it?"

Ah, there it is.

"You're afraid," I state. "Your wife's pregnant, right?"

He nods, his eyes are trained on me intently.

"Old friend, you have _nothing_ to fear of me. As long as you don't forget our cause, no harm will ever come to you or your family because of me," I promise, staring into his silver tinted eyes. The fear remains in them for a moment longer. I can tell that he's trying to gauge whether or not I was being sincere. When he finally sighs shakily and nods, I smile at him coldly.

"I'm happy you understand. Now, come here. We have to plan the next raid."

* * *

"Y-you promised," Abraxas mumbles, his eyes wide. "You said that no harm would ever come to them!"

I stare at him icily, my anger reaching an all-time high.

"You broke that promise the moment you began to conspire against me," I remark coldly. Abraxas stares at me unblinkingly. I quickly decide that I don't like the look in his eyes.

"You killed my little girl," he says in disbelief. "And for what? Wanting to bring down a madman? Your days are over, Tom. You're crazy if you think you can still lead us!"

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the temperature in the room begins to plummet even more.

"Really?" I ask after a while. Abraxas nods shakily. "And who were you planning on making the leader once you managed to kill me?"

Abraxas remains silent, telling me _all_ I needed to know.

I laugh mockingly.

"You? Haha, I know you are desperate for power, but seriously? You would crumble under the weight of leader."

He glares at me.

"What do you know?" he questions. "As I said, your time is up. Goodbye, Voldemort."

He takes his wand and yells out a spell. The green light comes hurtling towards me at great speeds but I merely laugh and apparate. I appear behind him and delight in the slight trepidation on his face as he goes to look for my body.

"Were you looking for me?" I ask. He spins around.

"How…?" he trails off. I laugh coldly.

"It's truly a shame," I sigh. "You were actually a really good follower until this fiasco. It's going to be a pain to find someone to replace you… Oh wait, I know! What if I use your wife?"

The color drains from Abraxas's face.

"Yes, that's an excellent idea," I decide. He looks at me, shaking his head. Too bad for him, I've already decided.

"Goodbye, old friend," I whisper. Immediately, I move my wand and whisper the fateful words, relishing in his broken gasp. Soon, it's just me.

The irony is so perfect that it almost hurts.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Hogwarts Fun Fair - Ride: Dodgems - Write a story in the Riddle Era.**

 **July Word Count - 561**


	113. Drabble 113: FrankAlice

**Title: Take My Fears Away**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Frank/Alice**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 ***Note - This story takes place after the prophecy has been just told.**

* * *

Frank watched his wife leave the room with a heavy sigh. Ever since Albus had shared the prophecy with them, Alice had been worried to death. Every day, she had nightmares. In her eyes, her beloved son would be sprawled out in his cot, his screams piercing the air, as Voldemort pointed his wand at him. The green light would glow brightly in the darkness that surrounds the two figures, and she would be helpless to stop it.

She was scared; scared that she wouldn't be able to protect her family and that knowledge was weighing down on her. Getting up from his chair, Frank swept out of the room, intent on going to the nursery. When he got there, he found Alice clutching Neville to her chest on the floor, her petite body trembling as she held him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he heard her whisper over and over again, the tears never seizing. Bending down, Frank hugged her from behind, not saying a word. He didn't need to, plus he knew that nothing he said would change Alice's mind. While it tore at his heart, he knew that he couldn't protect her from the nightmares and fears that plagued her.

They stayed there, Alice holding Neville while Frank held her. Numerous emotions ran throughout the room.

Sadness, regret, hope, sorrow...

However, even with all of those feelings, a lingering feeling of love ran rampant. No matter what was to come, nothing - not even the Dark Lord - would be able to take the love that they shared for each other away from them.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Hopscotch - 7 - Pairing: Frank Longbottom/Alice Longbottom**

 **July Word Count - 264**


	114. Drabble 114: LuciusHermione

**Title: Silver Wolf**

 **Pairing: Lucius/Hermione**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Summary: In a lonely world, Hermione has reached her breaking point. What happens when she hears a voice in her room? What happens when she discovers a wolf sitting innocently in her bed?**

 **Word Count: 1702**

 **AN: Written primarily for Round 7 of Quidditch League. This submission is by Firediva0, the Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps. Her pairing prompt was S.S Evil Genius which correlates with Lucius/Hermione. Please keep in mind that this story takes place in an Alternate Universe. There is no magic here.**

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

A tear, pure and innocent in its entirety, falls down her cheek. The sound of it resounds loudly in his mind and when it finally hits the ground with a loud splatter, he's off. His fur moves wildly in the wind as he pushes himself to go faster.

After all of these years, it was time. His mate wanted him. His mate _needed_ him.

He would not disappoint.

Opening his mouth, he howled, the sound rebounding off the trees around him. In it, a promise was stored.

He would find her, and when he did, he would love her.

 _I'm coming for you._

The brunette stays in her bed, curled up in a ball, oblivious to the vow that had just been made.

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

"I'm worried," Katherine says to her husband. "Has she talked to you?"

"No, Katherine. You know that she's closer to you than me. If anything, she'd have talked to you,"John says, shaking his head. "Isn't she old enough to work out her problems for herself? If she needs us, she'll come to us."

"John, our baby needs us. We can't just wait for her to ask for our help!" Katherine denies, a stubborn light in her chocolate eyes. "We have to be there for her, right?"

John looks at her in disbelief.

"Do you hear yourself?" he asks. "What teenager wants their parents all up in their business?"

Katherine remains silent, prompting John to sigh.

"Come on, love," he says, standing up and moving to wrap his arms around his distressed wife. "I know you're worried, but the best thing we can do is give Hermione space."

The woman looks as if she wants to protest, but one stern look from her husband has her slumping in his arms.

"You better be right about this," she warns. "So help me God, if my baby ends up being hurt because I decided to listen to you-"

"Yes, yes, I know. You'll burn me alive, and put me in a ditch somewhere. We've talked about this, sweetie," John interrupts, a small smile on his face. Katherine can't help but smile back. However, the smile soon fades.

"I hope you're right," she whispers to herself. John doesn't say anything; he merely hugs her tighter.

 _Please, be okay, Hermione._

His plea goes unheard.

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

"Oh, it's the freak," a girl with long, blonde hair remarks, her blue eyes looking at Hermione with obvious distaste. Said girl looks ahead, refusing to be baited.

"Why are you ignoring us?" another girl asks, suddenly reaching out and pushing Hermione into a set of lockers. "Pay attention!"

Her head hurts, but Hermione forces herself to get up. She sways once, twice, and then stills. She can feel the blood trickling down her forehead, but she refuses to acknowledge it. She turns away from the group of girls and makes her way down the hall, the taunts and jeers of the group following her. A tear falls down her cheek, and she stubbornly wipes it away.

Unbeknownst to her, enraged gray eyes follow her departure.

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

"Hermione, sweetie?" Katherine's voice floats to her. "It's dinner time. Are you coming down?"

"I'm not hungry!" she yells, attempting to wipe her tears away desperately. Her mom can't know that she's crying. She can't!

"O-okay," her mom stutters. Hermione can hear the concern and devastation in her voice, but she forces herself to ignore it. It's her fourth night refusing to go downstairs for dinner, and she knows that her mother is worried. It's not that she doesn't _want_ to… She just can't stand it anymore. No one likes her and she has no friends. Never before has she ever felt so alone.

She wishes she could tell her mother, but she knows that she can't. This is her problem. She has to deal with it on her own. However, Hermione knows that her mother desperately wants her to go to her for help. She knows that her mother would help; all she has to do is ask. It pains her, knowing that her mother feels helpless, but she couldn't, _wouldn't,_ make her mother worry even more.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she whispers. "I'm so, so, sorry."

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

"So, this is what you've chosen?" a smooth voice asks in her ear. Hermione wakes up abruptly, her wide chocolate eyes searching across the room for the speaker. She can see that no one was there, besides a wolf and herself.

Wait…

A wolf?

Hermione screams, backing away from the silver creature in fear. The wolf looks at her, its head cocked to the side in amusement. She stares at it, her terror mixing with curiosity. It didn't appear as if it would hurt her. Also, did she really have anything to lose if it decided to eat her? She was already miserable.

Hesitantly stepping closer, Hermione extends her hand. The wolf looks pleased by the action and even pushes his head forward in an effort to speed up the process. When they finally connect, Hermione can't help but gasp at the softness of its fur. She runs her hand through it, marveling at just how silky it feels to the touch. In her excitement, she forgets all about the mystery intruder, instead chalking it up to her imagination. All the while, the wolf watches on, its gray eyes looking at her in contentment.

At this stage, he is certain.

He has found his mate.

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

Stretching languidly in her bed, Hermione slowly opens her eyes, expecting to see her new friend still cuddled in her arms. When she doesn't feel the soft patch of fur, she begins to feel worry stir inside of her chest.

She bolts up, searching desperately for the wolf, but he is nowhere in sight. Curling into a ball, she could feel disappointment make itself known in the pit of her stomach. She should have known that this was too good to be true. Tears begin to fall from her eyes and Hermione couldn't help the sobs that ripped themselves from her throat.

She continues to cry, oblivious to the soft pattering of feet against carpet. Feeling something make contact with her arm, she looks up, her whole entire body stiffening in shock when she finds the wolf staring back at her.

"Wolf!" she screams, throwing herself at him. She cries into his fur, understanding finally dawning on her when she feels it's wet muzzle. She hadn't supplied the wolf with food.

Practically running to the kitchen, Hermione hurriedly grabs two bowls, a little bit of their leftovers, and a bottle of water. She sets everything up in her room, watching in satisfaction as the wolf makes a noise of contentment.

From that day onwards, the wolf stayed with her, only leaving a few times in order to hunt. Apparently, the wolf quickly got fed up with Hermione's leftovers. Normally, it would stay with her whenever she was home, offering its silent support. It would even allow her to cuddle him to her chest when she was feeling down.

The rhythm that they fell into was one that Hermione would always cherish. However, good things always have to come to an end.

* * *

~~(o-O-o)~~

* * *

"We've tolerated you for far too long, freak. Do us a favor and die?" one of the girls from before asks, her blue eyes boring into Hermione's own commandingly. Said girl continues to look away from them, ignoring their very existence.

Big mistake.

She feels something make contact with her arm. It enters her skin viciously, its owner pulling it down quickly and pulling it right back out. Her blood sprays out and Hermione turns around in shock.

Her arm burns and she looks down, her eyes widening as she sees the giant, bloody gash that now resides on her arm.

"Since you won't do the honors, we'd thought that we'd help you out," the girl continues, raising the bloody knife yet again.

Hermione can't respond. Her body stays still, her eyes trained on the glinting piece of metal.

It hurls towards her and she only has time to close her eyes, knowing that this was the end.

A minute went by. Nothing happened.

Slowly opening her eyes, Hermione can't help but gasp.

A beautiful man stands in front of her, his hand wrapped around the other girl's wrist.

His long blond hair lays in waves on his back and his steely gray eyes glare at her. He's dressed in a crisp, black suit. However, what makes Hermione _really_ pause is the soft-looking silver ears that reside on his head.

She knows those ears.

"Wolf…?" she asks, surprised. Said man looks at her, his eyes softening immediately.

"Hello, Hermione," he whispers. With a rush, Hermione realizes that it's the same voice from that time; the same voice that echoed throughout her bedroom before she saw the creature.

"How…?"

Lucius opens his mouth to explain, but the other girl shrieks, struggling in his hold.

"Let me go!" the blonde demands. Lucius shakes his head and clicks his tongue in annoyance.

"Why would I do that?" he asks. "Did you not just threaten my mate?"

Hermione's eyes widen.

"The freak deserves it!" the other girl continues. "Now, let me go!"

Lucius' hand tightens, drawing a pained gasp.

"Say that again," he threatens, "and I will personally rip you to shreds."

The girl looks at him, fear deep in her gaze, but she nods nonetheless. Disgusted, Lucius lets her go and watches as she scurries away like the vermin she is.

He turns back to Hermione and smiles.

"Shall we go home?" he asks. Hermione shakes her head, glaring.

"Why didn't you tell me you were my wolf?" she asks. Lucius smirks at the use of the word 'my,' but forces himself to appear neutral.

"Would you _really_ have agreed to let a grown man into your house, wolf or not?" he asks, an eyebrow raised. Hermione can't help but shake her head.

"Thought so," he says, sighing. "Now, can we go home? I'm tired."

At her hesitant nod, Lucius smiles and allows himself to transform back into the silver wolf.

They walk home in silence, a new sense of understanding between them.

Finally, Hermione isn't alone anymore.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch League - Lucius/Hermione (Firediva0, Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps)**

 **July Word Count: 1702**

 **Music History - Task 3 - Melody - Write about a trio character.**


	115. Drabble 115: SeverusBellatrix

**Title: Special**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Severus/Bellatrix**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

The mind is a flower.

With one good push, you can easily destroy it. If I'm being honest, I'd admit that I love it. If I were to tell you all the truth, I'd say that the only thing I love more than living is the ability to utterly destroy others.

I am not kind. I am not _nice._

No, instead I am cruel. I relish in the fact that no one ever truly knows my alliegance; relish in the fact that, no matter what, I am too useful for any of them to throw away. Everyone hates me. To them, I am nothing but scum, yet that's okay. I don't need them to like me. No, what I need is for them to fear me.

Bellatrix Lestrange hates my guts. To her, I don't deserve to be on the same side as her Lord. To her, I don't deserve to live at all. That's what makes us compatible. I hate her as well. I hate how she thinks she is superior to me; hate how she _dares_ to look down upon me when I am better than her in every single way.

My loathing and her hatred come together and form a beautiful fire. She is yin and I am yang. We work together to create something mesmerizing.

Now, as I push her to the ground viciously, I can feel the same flame igniting within my chest. Her nails rake down my skin, making it turn a nasty red, and I growl lowly. Pushing her head to the side ruthlessly, I attack her neck. It's all harsh bites and licks, yet she still shivers in delight.

We are one and the same. That is what makes us special.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Staff Room Challenge - Write about a staff member from Hogwarts.**

 **July Word Count - 289**


	116. Drabble 116: GodricSalazar

**Title: Despicable Lion**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor/Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Hogwarts has become a nightmare.

To others, I am the evil one. To others, I am a liability. I wonder, would they still say that if they knew the truth? Would people still say that I am evil when they find out what I do after hours? Will they see Godric as a beacon of hope when they find out what he does in his spare time?

If they were to find my blood splattered on the bathtub, would they finally realize what was going on?

Godric sits before me, a dark smile on his features. I'm trembling, the lingering feeling of pain ghosting along my body. I want to scream at him; demand that he let me go, but I can't.

Godric has won yet again.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asks softly. I look at him, glaring. He smiles.

"This could have been over a long time ago," he continues. "All you had to do was beg."

I look at him, my eyebrow raised. Did he really think that I was going to beg? The knowing smirk on his face was answer enough. He _wanted_ me to resist; _wanted_ me to make this sick game of his last longer. The mere thought of having been played yet again by him makes me feel sick.

"Are you going to be a good boy now, Sal?" he asks me. I grit my teeth. I hate it when he calls me that. After all, how can someone so devilish call me something so seemingly innocent?

Shaking my head, I spit on him, delighting in the sheer disgust on his face. However, it's gone as soon as it comes. He smirks at me. It's a dark smile and is full of promise, something that makes me hesitate for a second. He notices and his smirk only grows wider.

"I can't wait to make you scream," he sighs blissfully. My heart thumps wildly in my chest. At this point, I'm actually considering begging.

That's when he does it. He pulls his blade slowly out of its sheath, waving it back and forth in an effort to allow the light to bounce off of it.

I gulp.

 _I'm going to die._

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Staff Room Challenge - Write about a staff member from Hogwarts.**

 **July Word Count - 370**


	117. Drabble 117: RudolphusBellatrix

**Title: Dark Pleasure**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Rudolphus Lestrange/Bellatrix Lestrange**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Smouldering dark eyes looked into hers, beckoning her forward silently. Bellatrix stayed where she was, her stance one of calm authority. She took one step forward, her long, black dress flowing gracefully behind her.

Everything was silent save for their heavy breathing. This was a game they played; one of dark excitement, and Bellatrix was determined to win it.

Taking several slow steps forward, she finally stopped when she was right in front of the other, her lips a mere inch away. She raised her hand slowly, teasingly, and _finally_ reached out until it ghosted lightly along Rudolphus' chest. Looking up at him, she gazed deep into his eyes, her own filled with dark promise.

"Do you want this?" she purred, her hand lightly trailing across his torso. Rudolphus groaned, the sound loud and piercing in the silence around him. Rudolphus nodded and reached up as if to capture her wrist and end the cruel treatment. However, Bellatrix backed up, dancing out of his reach. He snarled, his dark, brown eyes flashing in anger. He was so enraged that he was helpless to stop what happened next.

A dark grin slowly curled along Bella's lips and she ran up to him, pushing him onto the bed roughly. Rudolphus fell onto the covers with a loud thump. He glared at her from his place but Bellatrix simply smirked.

"Beg," she commanded.

"No," he argued, looking at her with an eyebrow raised in disbelief. Rather than being angry, Bellatrix shrugged.

"Don't say I didn't give you a choice," she warned. Rudolphus was about to ask what she was talking about, but the feeling of something piercing his skin had him yelping.

"Ow!" he yelled, glaring at her. Bellatrix smirked.

"What, you don't like my knife? I bought it just for you," the woman purred. Rudolphus rolled his eyes.

"Liar, you bought it because you wanted to play with me.'

Bella didn't refuse it, causing him to huff.

"Come on," Bella whispered seductively. "I know that you secretly love the pain. Won't you let me play with you?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide and begging. It was a look that she knew Rudolphus simply couldn't resist. Said man's gaze traveled from both her and the knife, his mind obviously contemplating on whether or not this was worth it. Several seconds passed before he finally sighed, allowing his body to relax into the covers.

"Fine," he gritted out. Bellatrix cheered.

"No deep marks, though!" he continued. "Last time, they took _ages_ to heal."

"Aw, those are love marks! How could you not like love marks!"

Rudolphus shook his head.

"Come on; are we doing this or not?" he questioned. Bellatrix smiled, apparently forgetting about their little argument. Raising the knife, she brought it to his arm and sensually slid it down his skin, relishing in his broken gasp of pleasure.

"You like that, don't you, Rudo?" she purred. Said man groaned, his whole entire body arching up into the painfully delicious touch. Bellatrix smirked.

"I'm going to have so much fun making you scream."

Indeed, she did. The very next day, a heavily bandaged Rudolphus walked into the kitchen of the Lestrange state, a brightly grinning Bella right behind him.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Quidditch Pitch - Rudolphus Lestrange**

 **Ultimate Diverse Pairing Challenge - Rudolphus/Bellatrix**

 **Drabble Club - Knife**

 **Weekly/Monthly Goals/Prompts - Submission 2 for July**

 **July Word Count - 538**


	118. Drabble 118: RemusHarry

**Title: Chocolate and Flowers**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Remus/Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Harry sat on the bed, a small pout marring his features. Never before had he felt so cheated. Distantly, he could hear someone pounding on the door, but he stubbornly ignored it. Minutes passed and with every passing moment, the person outside of the door grew angrier and angrier. Finally, the sound of something exploding echoed throughout the room. Even then, Harry didn't turn around to address them.

The person walked into the bedroom, a sigh of relief being released from their lips when they finally caught sight of the Boy Who Lived.

"Harry," they whispered. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Harry shook his head stubbornly.

"No, you're not," he protested. "You're just saying that in the hopes that I'll forgive you."

"Harry," the figure pleaded. "Come on, I even got you chocolate and flowers. Can you please find it within yourself to forgive me?"

Again, Harry shook his head.

"Chocolate and flowers won't fix this, Remus."

Remus sighed, his whole entire body visibly deflating.

"Look," he said, coming to stand right in front of Harry. "When Sirius and I dated, we were young and stupid. We used each other as a way to get off. I don't love him like I do you."

Harry was silent.

"Harry?" Remus asked worriedly. By now, he expected Harry to be kicking and screaming, not sitting there and staying silent.

"...You love me?" Harry finally questioned after awhile. Remus nodded vigorously.

"More than you can ever possibly understand," he promised. Finally, Harry smiled, the expression a warm welcome after the frigid glare Harry had previously graced him with. He opened his arms and Remus launched himself forward, bringing Harry tightly within his hold.

They stayed there, small smiles on their faces, and Remus popped the question.

"You forgive me?" he asked, looking at Harry with hope. Harry pulled back and smiled warmly. He leaned in close and nuzzled Remus' cheek.

"No," he whispered.

Remus slumped on the bed.

Meanwhile, the sound of Harry's cackles could be heard throughout Grimmauld place.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Quidditch Pitch - "Chocolate and flowers won't fix this."**

 **Staff Challenge - Remus Lupin**

 **Game - Harry Potter Monopoly! - Token: Firebolt - Harry**

 **Ultimate Diverse Pairing Challenge - Remus/Harry**

 **Drabble Club - Bed**

 **Weekly/Monthly Goals/Prompts - Submission 3 for July**

 **July Word Count - 335**


	119. Drabble 119: VoldemortBella

**Title: Wicked**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Voldemort/Bellatrix**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

I need to resist.

If I don't, I'll be consumed by him. His aura will slowly seep into my body, controlling me like one does a puppet. I'll be helpless to stop it; helpless to stop _him_ as he uses me to his heart content. I try to resist; try to run away, but it's useless. His enthralling gaze has me captured. I can't help but get lost in his eyes; can't help but get lost in the sheer power this devilish person manages to exclude.

He's captured me.

I'm bound, my back arching in desperate pain, to a cross. Everything I've known; everything I _stand_ for has been taken. I am nothing now. He owns me completely and utterly.

His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle and he is my master.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Ultimate Diverse Pairing Challenge - Voldemort/Bellatrix**

 **Drabble Club - Enthralling**

 **Weekly/Monthly Goals/Prompts - Submission 3 for July**

 **July Word Count - 131**


	120. Drabble 120: Harry x No One

**Drabble 2: Trapped**

 **By Firediva0**

 **Word Count: 1,230**

 **Flying Lessons Assignment 1 - Write about a news that causes a commotion.**

* * *

I don't know how it happened.

One minute, I'm calmly walking down Diagon Alley, intent on shopping early for Yule. In the next, dozens of reporters are surrounding me, their quills poised threateningly in the air. All of them have a weird glint in their eyes.

I can feel my heart begin to pound furiously in my chest. They're all speaking rapidly, demanding that I speak to them; demanding that I give them a hit story.

I can only stare, fear and trepidation beginning to form in my chest. I want to run, yet I know that there is nowhere that I can run to. They have me surrounded, their bodies forming a solid wall around me.

"Harry!" one of them yells. It's a woman - one with curly dark hair, and a petite looking body. Her words come out high-pitched and jumbled. "Why didn't you tell anyone that you played professionally?!"

My heart stops, the feeling of fear from before resurging with a vengeance. I desperately turn around, hoping, praying that there is somewhere that I can run.

There isn't.

My breath comes in gasps and the world spins madly on its axis. People are screaming from every direction, demanding that I give them my attention. My eyes try to focus on one person only to be pulled to the next.

They're coming closer, their bodies closing in on me. My breaths come faster, my heart beats louder, and the world around me goes black. My eyes roll to the back of my head and suddenly I'm weightless.

The world around me has perished and darkness is all that remains in its wake.

* * *

A steady beeping comes from my left and the air smells strongly of rubbing alcohol. Slowly opening my eyes, I hurriedly close them when I'm practically burned to death, a scream of pain escaping from my lips.

I hear someone laugh at my misery and scowl, unwilling to see the flames of hell again. The mystery person doesn't let me, though. Instead, they lightly slap my face in reprimand.

"Wake up," the person says. I can't help the smile that breaks out on my face as I rush to obey them.

"Hermione?" I ask questioningly. I hear the person in question hum in agreement. Opening my eyes, I'm satisfied to find that the light from before has been removed. I look to the side, my eyes immediately settling on my best friend.

Hermione smiles at me softly, concern softly etched onto her face. She reaches out and grasps my cheek within her palm, stroking it soothingly with her thumb.

"Are you okay?" she asks me. "When they told me you passed out in the Alley, I almost didn't believe it. What were you thinking, Harry? You knew that the reporters would be out for blood."

I look to the side, stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze. She sighs.

"You're not going to tell me are you?"

I nod, still not looking at her. She huffs and pulls my face to the side, forcing me to look at her. She's smiling. Sure, it's filled with disbelief, but it's a smile nonetheless. At this moment, I'll take what I can get.

"It's a secret," I tell her. Hermione nods.

"Come on," she says, releasing my face and heading towards the door. She pauses, one hand grasping the doorknob. "Ron and the others are waiting for you."

"They're not mad?" I ask, knowing that she knew what I was talking about.

"No," she tells me, shaking her head. "Disappointed, yes, but not mad."

I sigh in relief.

"Thank you, Mione," I say, truly grateful for everything she's done. She smiles at me.

"Anytime, Harry. Anytime."

She walks out, the door closing softly behind her, and I allow my eyes to close.

I knew that they would be disappointed. After all, I _did_ tell them all that I wouldn't become a professional Quidditch player. I hadn't lied when I told them that. I truly hadn't meant to become one. However, when Nikola Vassileva had come to me in tears, begging me to play one game with them because her seeker, Viktor, was injured, I couldn't help but say yes.

As it turned out, one game quickly became two. Two became three, and three became every game after that.

Sighing, I open my eyes. It's time to face the beasts.

* * *

"Mate, what were you bloody thinking?" Ron asks, frustration seeping into his tone. I look at him, my face stoic, and shrug.

"Hmm, let me guess," he continues. "You _weren't_!"

I roll my eyes. I want to tell him that he's made stupid mistakes in the past, but I know that it will come to bite me in the ass.

"Ron, that's enough," Hermione interrupts. "You've been scolding him for over an hour."

Ron looks at her, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"You've scolded us for longer than that!" he points out furiously. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"Besides," Ron continues. "He's started a conspiracy! Do you know what they have printed everywhere? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Sick of His Life? Everyone thinks that he wants to escape!"

"I do," I mumble silently. Ron pauses and gapes at me.

"What…?" he asks silently. I look up at him, my eyes shining with tears.

"Ever since the war ended, people regard me as some sort of hero. No one ever sees me for who I am. They just see me as some sort of beacon of hope."

"You _are_ a hero, Harry," he says in a matter of fact tone. "You've saved us all; Of course, they're going to act like that!"

"But, I don't want that!" I burst out furiously. "I'm sick of it. Everyone acts like they care about my life, but they _don't_ and that hurts! I am not just the Boy Who Lived. No, I am Harry. Just Harry."

Ron looks like he wants to argue but one furious glare from Hermione has him shutting up. Said girl gets up and makes her way towards me, pulling me into a hug.

"We know that you're Harry," she whispers. I feel my eyes burn, the tears desperately wanting to come out, and close my eyes. "Even if they don't want to see you for who you are, we will."

We stay like that; Hermione holding me in her arms and me hopelessly trying to keep my tears at bay.

"Not to interrupt," Luna finally says from her place on the other sofa, "but what are we going to do about this? Naturally, we need to take the heat off of Harry."

A wicked glint is set aflame in Hermione's eyes.

"I have an idea," she whispers conspiratorially. I look at her warily, about to ask just what she was concocting in that brilliant mind of hers, but Ron beats me to it.

"What are you waiting for?" he demands. "Tell us!"

Hermione leans in close and tells us her plan. By the end of it, my eyes are wide and I look at her in a new light.

"That might work," Luna contemplates, the very same glint in her eyes. I'm seriously starting to get freaked out by these two.

"Oh, I _know_ it'll work," Hermione states.

I gulp at the smirk on her lips. I just hope that by the end of this, things will return back to normal.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Flying Lessons Assignment 1 - Team: Roaring Ravens - Drabble 2**


	121. Drabble 121: HermioneHarry

**Title: Hollow**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Hermione/Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Tom greeted cheerfully. Startled, Harry looked up, his eyes widening when he saw the barkeep standing right before him, a glass filled with beer in his hand. Carefully, Tom placed the glass in front of Harry, making sure that none of the contents spilled. Harry smiled at him gratefully.

"Harry," he corrected. Tom grinned at him. Harry had always liked Tom. With him, things weren't complicated. The man was genuinely a people pleaser and didn't buy into the cheap rumors that the Daily Prophet steadily wrote about him.

"Well, Harry," Tom began. "Why do you look so sad on such a fine night?"

Looking up, Harry was struck by just how empathetic the other was. He had been sure to make sure that he didn't display too many sullen qualities yet the other had managed to see right through him. He sighed, earning a sad frown from Tom.

"That bad, huh?" the man asked, taking his rag and throwing it over his shoulder. Harry nodded.

"Girl problems," he explained. Tom understood immediately, his frown deepening.

"She's not cheating, I take it?" Tom asked. Normally, if someone else had asked this, Harry would be ready to scream bloody murder, but since it was Tom, he didn't mind all that much.

"No," Harry told him. "Nothing as major as that. She's just... conflicted, I guess." Tom stayed silent and nodded, showing Harry that he was willing to listen if he needed to talk.

"I have this friend - an awesome friend, mind you - but at times, he's rather slow. The girl I like seems to be in love with him, but he doesn't love her back."

"And where do you fall into this?" Tom asked, intrigued. However, before Harry could answer, another patron called Tom over. The barkeep shot Harry an apologetic smile and ran off to fix the man a drink. Meanwhile, Harry brought his drink to his nose, giving his beer a small sniff. Shaking his head, he quickly downed it, sighing in contentment at the icy relief it managed to provide.

"Sorry about that," Tom apologized, coming to stand before Harry once more. "Now, where were we?"

"Where I fit into all of this," Harry reminded him. Tom nodded, signaling Harry to continue.

"Basically, I let her use me. I knew that she needed some variation of affection and I loved her."

"So, you thought why the hell not? Not realizing that this would put you in a horrible position?" Tom observed, a frown marring his features. Harry nodded, a grimace on his face.

"Yep," he agreed.

"That sucks," Tom whispered. "You gave her your heart, but she couldn't give you hers."

Harry nodded.

"Harry, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always here, okay?" Tom asked sincerely. Harry nodded, a small grin forming on his face.

"Thanks, Tom," he whispered. The other man beamed.

"Anytime."

Looking at the time, Harry sighed. He really had to go.

"I'll see you later?" he questioned, already gathering his things. Tom nodded and waved.

"See you, Harry."

Harry nodded and walked out, his heart feeling just the tiniest bit lighter than what it had been previously.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Ultimate Diverse Pairing Challenge - Hermione/Harry**

 **July Word Count - 528**


	122. Drabble 122: GellertAriana

**Title: Fight For You**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Ariana Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

When they had first met, Gellert hadn't intentionally sought her out. Sure, he knew that Albus had a sister, but he didn't know who she was. Never before had he met the mysterious Ariana Dumbledore. He had heard stories of her; heard of just how pitiful she was because of her illness; heard that, even then, her kindness was astounding. Rather than growing spoiled due to the fact that she was well looked after, Ariana was selfless, something that astounded Gellert. However, even that wasn't enough to make him want to meet her. To him, it was okay if she stayed in the shadows. After all, she was nothing to him.

That soon changed.

He had been with Albus when it happened. Together, the two boys were strolling through their village, intent on going to their secret hideout. A mere moment later, though, a sweet voice called out to them.

"Albus?"

Turning around, Gellert was not prepared to see what he found. A girl, barely the age of 15 from the looks of it, stood before them. Her long, blonde hair moved gently in the wind, swaying to the beat of an unknown rhythm. Her eyes were an entrancing brown. If Gellert were to compare them to something, he'd choose chocolate. They looked sweet, but just a small amount of bitterness could be found if one looked deep enough. Her full lips were pulled back into a frown, something that Gellert found absolutely adorable. She was short and her body was small for her age, yet that simply added to her appeal. She looked like a doll - one that was pretty and elegant enough to be displayed in an antique store.

Gellert couldn't help the surge of lust that ran rampant throughout his body.

While Gellert was lost in his thoughts, Albus stepped forward, a frown on his features as he regarded his sister.

"What do you want, Ari?" he asked impatiently. Ariana looked at him, frowning deeper.

"Mom said to come get you. It's time for dinner," she replied, her voice soft and silky. It reminded Gellert of velvet.

"Tell her to save me some," Albus sighed, annoyance clear on his face. Ariana looked crestfallen, something that enraged Gellert. He turned towards Albus, his eyebrow twitching in irritation.

"Albus, go home," he ordered. To Gellert's delight, Ariana looked at him with hope. In contrast, Albus looked at him with annoyance.

'No," the other boy protested. "We need to finish this today. Dinner can wait."

"It wasn't a question," Gellert told him. "Your sister came all this way for you when she's sick. The least you could do is accompany her back home and eat."

"Since when did you care about such trivial things?" Albus asked. Gellert glared at him, prompting Albus to sigh in resignation.

"Fine," he ground out. He then looked at his sister. "Come on, Ari."

Ariana looked delighted. A giant smile formed across her face and she didn't hesitate to run forward and hug Gellert, her head coming to rest gently on his chest.

"Thank you!" she said gratefully. She looked up at him, her eyes twinkling, and then pulled back, taking her brother's hand excitedly.

"Come on, Albus!" she demanded. "Mom's waiting for us!"

The other boy rolled his eyes but allowed her to pull him along.

Behind them, Gellert continued to watch, his eyes trained on the beautiful girl he had just met. He didn't care what he had to do to get her. Ariana would be his.

* * *

"Spill it," Albus commanded, looking at Gellert inquiringly. Said man looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Why did you want me to go with my sister?"

"Because," Gellert began. "She's family. When they want you to do something, you do it."

"Bullshit," Albus snarled. "You don't extend the same courtesy to your Aunt."

"This and that are two different things," Gellert sighed. Albus shook his head.

"They're really not," he told him stubbornly.

"What do you want me to say, Albus?" Gellert finally asked, closing the book he had been reading and placing it onto the table beside him. "Something sentimental like, 'I want you to do the things that I can't?' Come off it, mate."

"No," Albus said, pulling his hair in frustration. "I want you to tell me the truth."

"There's nothing to say," Gellert told him coldly. "Now, I have business to take care of. When you get your head out of your arse, feel free to find me."

With that, Gellert left the room, leaving a seething Albus behind.

* * *

"Ariana, right?"

Yelping, Ariana turned around, startled to come face to face with the man who had helped her out before. Even then, she smiled, her eyes regarding the man with happy intrigue.

"Yes," she told him. "I don't think I know your name, though, Mr..." she trailed off, looking at him expectantly. Gellert smiled.

"Gellert," he whispered. "Gellert Grindelwald."

Ariana blushed, her eyes widening just a little. Flustered, she brought her hand up and swept a strand of her hair behind her ear. She had heard rumors about Gellert Grindelwald. Apparently, he was one of the most sought after men in their village.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she intoned.

"The pleasure's all mine," Gellert returned, grinning. Unwillingly, Ariana found herself relaxing. The man was unexpectedly easy to talk to.

"Was there something you wanted?" she questioned politely. Gellert shook his head.

"No," he denied. "I merely wanted to talk to the little sister of my best friend. I've heard many things about you."

"I hope they were all good," she joked, grinning.

"Oh, I promise you..." Gellert trailed off. There was something in his voice; something that made Ariana feel like he was referring to something else. "I've only heard positively delightful things about you."

Ariana opened her mouth to respond but was cut off.

"Gellert? Ari?"

Albus ran up to them, his gaze curious as he regarded them.

"Since when did you become friends?" he asked. Gellert looked at him, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. He glared at the other boy, but Albus didn't seem to notic.e

"We're friends?" Ariana asked, looking at Gellert questioningly. Unwillingly, Gellert's gaze softened and he nodded at her, a warm feeling settling in his chest when Ariana smiled blindingly at him.

"Yay!" she cheered, hugging him. She turned towards her brother and stuck out her tongue at him.

"He's my friend now too!" she said, childishly. Albus frowned at her and then looked at Gellert.

"Why would you want to be friends with her?" he demanded. Ariana looked at her brother with hurt, but Albus didn't notice. Unfortunately for him, Gellert did. The blonde seethed, the look of sadness on Ariana's face bringing out a more protective side of him. Sneering at Albus, he wrapped his arms around Ariana and glared at him.

"Because she's a better person than you are," Gellert returned cruelly. Albus looked at him as if he were crazy, but Gellert didn't spare him another moment. Grabbing Ariana's hand, he pulled her away. Albus screamed behind them, demanding that they stop, but Gellert paid him no heed. Instead, he stubbornly continued on, finally pausing when he deemed them far enough.

Ariana slowly pulled away and looked in his eyes, the hurt from before now replaced with gratefulness.

"Thank you," she whispered. Gellert nodded and pulled her to him, gently guiding her head to rest on his shoulder.

"You're wonderful," he told her. "Don't let your brother make you feel otherwise."

Ariana nodded.

They stayed locked in each other's embrace and made small talk for the rest of the day, taking the time to get to know one another better. Finally, when they parted, they felt a connection between them; one they were sure would not simply go away.

* * *

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Albus asked. Gellert looked at him stoically.

"And if I am?" he returned, his eyebrow raised. Albus shook his head furiously.

"You can't!" he yelled. "She's my sister!"

"And?" Gellert asked. "That doesn't mean that I can't like her."

"Man, this is all kinds of messed up," Albus whined. "Gellert, we have a job to do! What about the greater good?"

"What about it?" the blonde asked icily. "We'll still fight for it. Ari will just be by my side."

"Ari?!" Albus asked, shocked. "Since when do you call her Ari?"

"Since we ran away from your stupid self," Gellert said, shrugging his shoulders.

"No, you can't love her. I won't let you have her," Albus said decisively. Gellert felt rage boiling in his veins, enticing him to act. He just managed to keep himself under control.

"You will do no such thing," he whispered dangerously. Albus paused, not used to seeing Gellert look at him with such deadly intent.

"If you do anything - and I mean _anything -_ to hinder my relationship with Ari, I will kill you."

It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.

Without another word, Gellert stormed out, leaving a gaping Albus behind him.

* * *

"Is it true that you had a fight with my brother?" Ariana asked, coming to a stop in front of Gellert. Said boy simply nodded, patting the ground beside him in invitation. Gracefully, Ariana sat down and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you two were really good friends."

"It's okay," Gellert told her, gently smelling her hair. The scent calmed him. No matter how stressful his fights with Albus were, Ariana's presence always managed to calm him down.

They stayed liked that for a while, simply enjoying the nice breeze that came through every once in awhile.

"Hey?" Gellert eventually mumbled, stirring Ariana lightly. Said girl opened her eyes blearily. She had almost fallen asleep.

"Yeah?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. Gellert smiled at her sadly and then looked out into the distance.

"If I were to tell you that I love you, what would you say?"

Ariana paused, her mouth opening in surprise. A minute went by and Gellert was going to take it back, but he soon felt Ariana's head fall back on his shoulder.

"I'd tell you that I love you too."

"In that case," Gellert sighed. "I love you."

Ariana grinned and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"I love you too."

For the first time in his life, tranquility finally blossomed into Gellert's heart. In that moment, Gellert knew that no matter what happened between Albus and himself, he would fight desperately to keep his beloved safe. No matter what, he would take care of Ariana.

Albus would simply have to accept that.

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Ultimate Diverse Pairing Challenge - Gellert Grindelwald/Ariana Dumbledore**

 **Fairytales Assignment 2 - Ariana Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald. Extra Prompt: Connection**

 **July Word Count - 1,771**


	123. Drabble 123: GodricSalazar

**Title: Mad Man**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor/Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 **Key:**

Regular Text

 _Flashback_

 _Thoughts_

* * *

"Is he okay?" Rowena asked worriedly, staring at Salazar with concern. Godric nodded, his eyes locked onto her form with a startling amount of intensity. Caught up in her concern, the woman failed to notice the slightly manic glint in the other's eye.

"Rowena," Godric called, his voice demanding. The girl finally turned around, her blue eyes regarding Godric in confusion.

"Yes?" she asked, pausing in her fretting. Godric finally grinned at her. It was forced, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Sal, will be fine. You, however, need sleep," he said. Rowena frowned and looked over at the man in question. Salazar sat on the bed, his bright green eyes wide open in fear. They had found him in his chamber like that. His clothes had been stained in his blood and his eyes looked fearfully ahead, seeming to see something that none of them could see. When they had attempted to prod him for answers, he didn't respond.

"I can't leave him," she said softly, her hand reaching out to gently caress Salazar's hair. Said man didn't stir, something that worried her immensely. Normally, the founder of Slytherin would have immediately pulled away. Now, he had no reaction to her touch.

"You have to," Godric persuaded. "Do you really think that Salazar would be okay with you passing out from exhaustion because of him?"

Rowena remained silent. She knew the answer to that question all too well.

"Exactly," the lion continued on, shaking his head. "Follow Helga's example and go to sleep. If it makes you feel any better, I'll stay with him."

Rowena hesitated for a moment. She wanted to stay; wanted to support her friend, but she desperately needed sleep. After dealing with numerous people in an effort to get their school up and running, she was dangerously close to passing out.

 _Besides_ , she thought. _Godric will be here watching over him. Salazar is safe._

Finally relenting, Rowena nodded. Godric sighed in relief and hugged her. He then kissed her cheek and whispered good night to her. Rowena gave Salazar one more concerned glance and finally left, oblivious to the shark-like smile that now took residence on Godric's face.

"Finally," Godric whispered. "Since my fun was interrupted last time, let's continue!"

* * *

 _"Stay away from me," Salazar snarled, ripping himself from Godric's hold. Said man smirked, his hold on Salazar's waist tightening._

 _"Now, why would I do that?" Godric questioned, lightly drawing circles on Salazar's wrist with his thumb. The raven gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing in anger._

 _"Let me go," Salazar growled out, trying with all his might to push the other wizard away. He wished he had his wand, but Godric had taken that away long ago. He had known that Salazar would hex him within an inch of his life if he had it. "What exactly are you trying to prove?"_

 _"That you're mine, of course," Godric responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world._

 _"I don't belong to you, Godric," Salazar said for what felt like the thousandth time. Godric simply hummed, shaking his head in pity._

 _"Why do you insist on fighting this?" the red-head asked, tightening his hold on Salazar's hips to the point of pain. The raven yelped, his hands pushing even more furiously at Godric's chest._

 _"Because, you idiot, I don't want this!" Salazar yelled. Godric's eyes flashed in anger and he abruptly pushed Salazar down._

 _"You do," he insisted, grinding his pelvis against Salazar's own. "You want this just as much as I do. You're a slut for it."_

 _"I don't," the other moaned out. His lower half was reacting to the stimulation, his cock practically begging for more. Even then, Salazar stood firm in his beliefs. He didn't want this; didn't want Godric, and he needed his friend to see that._

 _"I don't want this," he said again, his voice more concrete this time. Godric stared at him. Finally, he saw the sincerity in the other's gaze. It enraged him. Godric's green eyes flashed in agitation and he pushed himself more firmly against Salazar._

 _"You're lying!" he growled out. His hand shot out and began to unbutton Salazar's top. Scared gray eyes looked into Godric's own, pleading silently for the man to not do what he thought he was about to do._

 _Godric ignored him._

 _Finishing with all of the buttons, Godric pulled the shirt off him, leaving Salazar shirtless. Reaching down, Godric pulled out his sword from his sheath, delighting in the pure fear that shone in those gray jewels._

 _"If you don't want to be mine, I'll simply force you to be mine," Godric purred, gently bringing the sword to hover over Salazar's torso. "Are you ready?"_

 _Furiously, Salazar shook his head. At that moment, the only thought that ran through his head was that he was going to die._

 _He closed his eyes, awaiting the sharp edge of the sword, but it never came._

 _"Sal! Godric!"_

 _Helga's voice traveled down the chamber, signaling her arrival. Godric finally pulled back and sheathed his sword. He looked at Salazar with a pout, a promising glint in his eye._

 _It was that look; the utter sincerity that lingered in those green eyes that caused Salazar to freeze, his blood pumping furiously in his veins._

 _He was going to die..._

 _In the end, the lion would eat the snake, and he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it._

 _...The supposed hunter had become the hunted._

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Care of Magical Creatures - Assignment 1 - Write about someone who has frozen in fear due to a near death experience.**

 **July Word Count - 914**


	124. Drabble 124: HermioneHarry

**Title: To Find Love**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Hermione/Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

For Harry, love was an uncharted territory.

When he was young, his parents had been killed. When he was nothing but a mere child, his extended family had treated him like a disgusting creature. Even when he was on the precipice of adulthood, he was denied the opportunity of having love in his life. Sure, the Weasley's were kind to him, but he wasn't apart of their family. He was an outsider; one that they could consider a family friend at best.

He doesn't let this stop him, though. Harry continued to fight. He fought for those who were too weak to do so; fought for those whose families had been destroyed like his had. Even then, love has yet to find him.

He was drowning; the tempting promise of love steadily evading him and forcing him to fall deeper into the water. He mouthed silently, hoping, _praying,_ that someone would notice his predicament.

No one heard his silent pleas.

* * *

Things had finally changed when Harry had met her.

Hermione Granger, the know-it-all witch from his year, had come to him, intrigued by the legend of the Boy Who Lived. At the time, Harry had been with Ron Weasley, a boy he had met on the train. The brunette had come into their compartment, a roguish grin on her lips, and sat down. She wasted no time extending her hand and introducing herself.

"Hermione Granger," the girl said, flashing him a small smile. Harry nodded, his green eyes boring into hers in curiosity.

"Harry," he whispered, waiting for her reaction. "Harry Potter."

Rather than gasping, Hermione simply nodded.

"Well, Harry," she began. "Would you mind if I read my book in here?"

Ron snorted at the question, and Harry hit him lightly in the stomach in retribution.

"Of course not," Harry responded, a small grin curling along the edges of his lips. Hermione smiled brightly at him and fished out her book from her trunk. The girl began reading and Harry allowed himself to pay attention to the groans Ron were releasing as he squirmed in his seat, clutching his supposedly aching stomach.

* * *

Since that day, they had been inseparable. Even now, three years later, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had all gone to Diagon Alley, having already gotten permission from Dumbledore to buy Molly something for her birthday. At first, the wizened wizard had been weary of the idea, but after the teens agreed to put up with a few of the Order's bodyguards and appealed to Dumbledore's obsession with socks, he had let them go.

As it turned out, Hermione and Ron were looking forward to shopping. Ron had brought a list of all the candy and quidditch equipment he wanted to get while Hermione had gone out of her way to prepare a whole scroll filled with book titles she wanted to get. Harry, meanwhile, had to play the voice of reason. It had been hard convincing the both of them to go get Molly's items first, but when he did, things only got better from there.

The three teens had ran throughout the alley, making sure to stop every so often to buy anything that caught their eyes. Silently, the guards followed them from behind, their expressions indulgent as they witnessed the childish glee that registered on the three teen's faces. To them, it was nice that despite everything that was going on, the teens could still have fun.

What intrigued them, however, was how close Hermione and Harry were getting. While they weren't sure if Ron noticed, the two teens seemed to lean in and whisper things to each other, giggling at their own jokes. To add on to that, they even touched each other accidentally several times. One moment, it was a casual brush against the other's hand and, in the next, they were tugging lightly on each other's arms. It confused the guards, yet it also amused them.

Despite their discovery, they continued to follow the teens silently, taking delight in just how clueless the teens seemed to be.

* * *

"You like her, don't you?" Ron asked one day. They sat in the common room, waiting for both Hermione and Ginny, so they could go visit the library for a study session. Looking up from their chest game, Harry paused and looked at Ron in confused hesitation.

"Who?" he asked cautiously. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Who else?" Ron asked impatiently. "Hermione, of course."

Harry's heart began beating rapidly, his blood burning in his veins.

"I-I don't," he tried to say, stuttering. Ron shook his head and looked at Harry with a kind smile.

"It's okay," Ron assured. "I kind of had a feeling that you liked her. Besides, you guys would make a cute couple."

Harry blushed, his face erupting in a dark shade of red. Before he could say anything else, Hermione and Ginny came down the stairs, identical smiles on their faces. The warm glint in Hermione's eyes made him forget all about the conversation.

* * *

"You should tell her," Ron remarked when they entered their dorm room. He walked over to his bed, sat down, and beckoned Harry over. Said boy sighed and did as told.

"I can't," Harry whispered. "Hermione doesn't like me that way."

"You don't know that," Ron told him. "I've seen the way she looks at you. It reminds me of how Mum looks at Dad."

Harry shook his head.

"I wish I could believe that," he said sadly. "For me, love isn't an option. She couldn't possibly feel the same."

"Mate," Ron sighed, irritation plain in his voice. "Stop the crap. Hermione likes you and you would be a fool not to see that. Ask her. I promise you that you won't be disappointed."

Harry got up, Ron's words echoing in his ears.

"I'll think about it," he vowed. Ron nodded. It was the best he could hope for.

Going to his bed, Harry wasted no time getting in and cuddling his sheets. _He could do this_ , he told himself. _Besides, what do I have to lose? If she doesn't like me, we can simply continue being friends. If she does, we can go out. Sounds good, doesn't it?_

Even then, he couldn't help the slight ache in his heart.

* * *

"I love you," Harry blurted out. Hermione dropped her quill, her eyes wide in shock. Realizing what he had said, Harry blushed to the very tips of his ears, humiliation and embarrassment practically holding him captive. He was about to bolt out of the room when Hermione suddenly reached out, her hand grasping his own, and looked him right in the eyes.

'"I love you, too," she told him, a shy smile on her lips. Harry couldn't help but gape.

"What?" he asked dumbly. Hermione giggled and got up from her arm chair, coming to stand right in front of him.

"I love you, Harry James Potter," she repeated, not once letting go of his hand. Harry smiled, feeling tears burning in the back of his eyes. He pulled her forward, forcing her to fall on him. He ignored her gasp of surprise. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, tears streaming down his face.

"I love you," he whispered over and over again. The words were a mantra; one that he desperately needed to say, and Hermione seemed to understand. She smiled and hugged him back.

 _Finally,_ Harry thought. _I've found love._

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **Arithmancy - Assignment 1 - Write about at least two characters. One of them has to portray at least three of the qualities depicted. If you use Harry Potter, you get an extra 5 points. My chosen qualities: Sweet natured, friendly, and achievers.**

 **July Word Count: 1,235**


	125. Drabble 125: GodricSalazar

**Title: You Will Be Mine**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor/Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"You feel so good," Godric moaned, ghosting his hands along Salazar's side. Said man's eyes rolled to the back of his head, his hips arching up into the tantalizing touch. Futilely, he tried to push Godric's shoulders, attempting to get the other man off of him.

"We can't do this," he mumbled. Godric smirked and leaned down, his breath lightly caressing the other man's ear.

"We can," he disagreed. Grinding down a little more harshly, he relished in the small groan of pleasure that echoed throughout the room. "Just let go."

Salazar shook his head, bleary gray eyes opening and looking at Godric with distant determination.

"Get off me," he tried to demand. It sounded more like a breathless plea. Godric grinned down at him.

"Why?" he asked. "You obviously want it."

On its own accord, the lion's hand slowly crept downwards until it cupped the younger man's clothed hardness. Salazar moaned, his eyes closing.

It felt so good; so utterly _delicious,_ and all he wanted to do was give in. Arching into the touch, he allowed his mind to turn off; allowed his body to finally give in to the pleasurable sensations. Of course, that had to be the moment when a loud ringing echoed throughout the room. Eyes opening abruptly, Salazar hurriedly pushed the other man off of him and brushed his clothes. He looked to the side, refusing to glance up and see the smirk that the other would no doubt be sporting.

Turning to the door, he was stopped by a strong hand wrapping around his wrist.

"We'll continue this later, right?" Godric asked, his infuriating smirk still in place. Salazar snarled and shook his head viciously.

"You _do_ realize that what you just did could be considered rape, right?" he growled. Godric had the gall to look offended.

"I did what you allowed me to," he told him, his eyes going a little hazy in pleasure. "You were moaning so prettily; I knew that you wanted it. Who was I to deny you?"

" _Excuse me?!_ " Salazar screeched, glaring at Godric. "I did not ' _want_ ' it! You were pinning me to the floor! How was I supposed to get away from you?"

Godric actually chuckled.

"Come off it, Salazar," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "This is your chambers. If you truly wanted me gone, Hogwarts would have forced me to leave."

Salazar turned a deep shade of red, his fist clenching and unclenching by his side.

"I mean, really," Godric continued, oblivious to the turmoil that Salazar had bottled up inside of him. "It's okay to admit that you want me. If I were you, I'd want me too."

That was the last straw.

Eyes shooting daggers at Godric, Salazar pointed harshly at the door, his stance one of threatening authority.

"Get OUT!" he yelled loudly. Immediately, Hogwarts reacted. A bright green light enveloped Godric's body, and he was whisked away. Now alone, Salazar collapsed on the floor, his breath coming out in uneven intervals. In his mind, he could see Godric over him; could practically _taste_ the other man as his breath ghosted along his ears.

His face flushed at the memory and he grasped his head, tears coming to his eyes against his will.

He cried, cursing himself for his weakness. Even now, the memory of Godric's concerned green eyes as he was whisked away disturbed him.

* * *

"You can't do this!" Godric protested, looking at Salazar as if he had just killed his puppy. Said man stared at him unblinkingly, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Oh, and why can't I?" he asked. His nonchalant tone infuriated the lion. It was as if Salazar didn't actually understand what the problem was.

"Because," Godric burst out, his green eyes wide with disbelief, "that would mean that I couldn't jump you anymore!"

"You couldn't do that from the beginning," Salazar pointed out calmly. Godric looked ready to protest even more, causing Salazar to huff in irritation.

"Look," he ground out. "We're best friends. I'm not going to put that in jeopardy because of questionable feelings. This is final, Godric. Live with it."

Getting up, Salazar swept out of the room, completely ignoring the heartbroken despair that lingered on the other's face.

* * *

Salazar took one look at Godric and sighed, his hands coming up to rub gently at his temples. Meanwhile, Rowena laughed and cheered the screeching lion on, oblivious to the rage she was inciting in the snake. Turning around, she looked at Salazar with an excited glint in her eyes.

"Isn't this cute?" she asked him excitedly. "All of this because he loves you. It's adorable!"

"No, it isn't," Salazar disagreed, glaring at her. "It's annoying."

"Oh, don't pretend like you don't love it!" Helga chastised, entering the Great Hall and coming over to the duo. Salazar raised one eyebrow in question.

"You know that I can't resist eavesdropping," she told him. Salazar nodded.

"Anyways," the raven whispered to him. "We know that you love Godric. Why are you making the poor lad go through all of this trouble?"

"I don't love him," Salazar corrected, turning to look at Godric. The imbecile was still screaming at the top of his lungs. Apparently, he had gone to one of those muggle theaters and learned a song. Sadly, he only knew one _very_ high pitched verse. Salazar's ears were still ringing from the abuse.

"We're friends; nothing more, nothing less."

"Ah, young love," Helga moaned. "I remember when I first fell in love with Rowena. I had done the same thing as you, now that I recall."

"Yep," Rowena interjected, rolling her eyes at the memory. "The fool dared to pretend like she didn't love me."

"You made me regret that, though, didn't you?" Helga asked, grinning at the other woman lecherously. Rowena smirked and nodded.

"Do you want to know what I did?" Rowena asked Salazar curiously. Said man shook his head rapidly.

"Spare me," he pleaded.

"Well, for one, it involved chains..." Helga trailed off suggestively, laughing at the stony glare Salazar sent her way.

"I'm leaving," the man declared, getting up and heading towards the door.

"DON'T FORGET YOUR HUN-BUN!" Helga yelled after him. She fell into a fit of cackles. Rowena actually had to help her up when she almost fell.

Godric, having noticed that his beloved was leaving, immediately ran after him, his arms open wide.

"Don't leave without me!" he screamed, rushing out of the Great Hall.

Salazar walked faster.

* * *

After the screaming fest, Salazar had truly gotten no rest. From that day onwards, Godric enacted several dangerous plans in the hopes of getting Salazar to take back his declaration.

None of them worked.

Salazar never took back what he said. However, that didn't mean that Godric wasn't getting to him. Rowena was certain that by Yuletide, Godric would have successfully gotten the other man to confess his love.

If only Rowena knew how right she was...

* * *

"...Salazar?" Helga asked hesitantly, her own voice clouded with grief. Said man didn't look up. Instead, he stared ahead, his gaze locked on the figure that lay before him.

Godric Gryffindor lied on a bed in the infirmary, his face a stark white. His normally expressive green eyes were closed to the world.

"He's gonna be okay," the witch lied, coming over to hug Salazar. Said man didn't return the hug. Hell, he didn't even look up. His gaze was locked on the barely breathing figure on the bed, a small tear slowly falling down his cheeks.

"I love you," he whispered. Helga gasped but didn't say anything. "I love everything about you... Godric, if you hear me, don't die. Please, don't leave me."

The words were out; he couldn't take them back. He was startled to find that he didn't want to.

"You were the stubborn boy who wouldn't leave me alone. Even when I didn't want to become a part of this stupid project, you kept bothering me; kept _forcing_ me to react when all I wanted was to wither away," Salazar continued. He couldn't stop. The words needed to be said.

"At first, I hated you. I hated what you _did_ to me. No one could evoke a reaction from me before, but you..." he trailed off, a sob ripping itself out of his throat.

"You couldn't let it stay that way. You continued to bug me, continued to _save_ me when I didn't even want to be saved. You can't die on me, you bastard. You can't simply fix a broken man and then break him again!"

The tears were flowing faster, but Salazar never looked away from Godric.

"GODDAMIT, WAKE UP!"

Nothing...

Not a movement, not a word, not a caress...

The reality of the situation hit Salazar and he finally broke down. Helga pulled the trembling man to her, offering her comfort in any way she could. If only Godric could see him now; if only he could see the true depth of emotion he had caused Salazar.

"D...o...n't cry..., preci...ous."

They both paused, slowly turning around. When they saw bleary green eyes looking at them, they immediately ran to the man's bedside. However, Godric only had eyes for Salazar.

"...D...on't...cry," he croaked. Salazar nodded, wiping his tears hastily.

Helga watched on with a sad smile. Perhaps, things would finally look up for the two from here?

* * *

 **P** **rompts:**

 **History of Magic - Assignment 1 - Task: Choose a founder and write a story in which a character exemplifies two or more qualities that your chosen founder looked for. Founder: Godric Gryffindor - Qualities: Courageous, daring, and brave.**

 **Pocket Morty's Comp: #113 - Double Snoozle Morty - Write about a slash/femslash pairing.**

 **July Word Count: 1,559**


	126. Drabble 126: CharlieHarry

**Title: Watching Over You**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

From the window, Charlie looked into Harry's room, a slight frown on his face.

At first, this had seemed like a good idea. By keeping tabs on Harry's whereabouts, he could make sure that no harm came to the boy. What he didn't take into account; however, was how _perverted_ this made him feel. Blimey, Harry was a kid. Hell, he was Ron's _best friend._ If someone were to catch him, how in the world would he explain himself?

 _"Uh, you see, I was just trying to make sure that Harry wasn't injured," he would say, looking away from his father's stern gaze._

 _"Uhuh," his father would say, nodding. "And this just so happened to include the moments when he was... Ahem, relieving himself?"_

 _"..."_

Yeah, because _that_ would go over well. Shaking his head to clear his rampant thoughts, Charlie looked away. He tried to keep his gaze pinned to the gates surrounding the Dursley home; however, his gaze was inevitably drawn to the writhing figure on the bed.

The boy's head was thrown back in ecstasy, little moans pouring out from his mouth, and Charlie couldn't help but curse himself when he felt himself reacting to the erotic scene.

Physically, forcing himself to look away, Charlie once again contemplated why the hell he had decided to do this. Voldemort's attacks had steadily become more ferocious and Dumbledore had been sure that he would attack the teen sooner rather than later. After a heavy discussion, the Order eventually decided to send the teen back to the Dursley's against his will.

That knowledge didn't sooth Charlie's nerves. If anything, it made him run out into the darkness of the night and apparate straight to number 4 Privet Drive. Sighing, Charlie turned around and leaned against the house, allowing Harry the time to finish his wanking. He had only been doing this for a couple of weeks, yet he was still attracted to Harry. It wasn't lust, perse. There was just _something_ about him that drew Charlie in. Huffing in irritation, he allowed himself to slowly slide down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees. Closing his eyes, he was about to go on yet another self-pity fest, when it happened.

"Charlie?"

Well, shit.

* * *

 **Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge - (Platinum) Umbreon - Write about someone spying on someone else at night.**

 **Pairing the Character - Week 9 - Charlie Weasley/Harry Potter**

 **Pocket Morty's Comp: #78 - Guard Morty - Write about someone guarding an important artifact/person.**

 **July Word Count: 380**


	127. Drabble 127: GodricSalazar

**Title: Judged**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Godric/Salazar**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

 _Your hand is warm…_

Gently, Godric pulls me forward. His eyes are trained on the road ahead of us, but I know that he's still aware of me. His hand is a warm pressure on top of my own, comforting in its looseness as we stride down the snow filled streets.

People walk about, small smiles on their faces as they make their way around, yet I can't find it in my heart to find fault with them. Right now, all of these people are living their lives in peace and tranquility – completely unbothered by the war that rages on outside of its outskirts.

In a way, I envy them. They don't need to be afraid of what is to come. Instead, they can focus on the future and procure the innocent moments that anyone would want. For them, life is worth living.

How lucky.

I haven't felt that desire in years. Even now, as Godric pulls me towards his house, I don't feel like life is worth living. I'm all too familiar with the pain of being betrayed.

Moments pass by and slowly the town's quiet chatter ceases. By now, we're in a slightly classier part of the town. Big cottages are scattered around, each one having a stable where horses are held.

A couple of more moments pass until Godric finally stops. Silently, he moves towards the door of a dark green cottage, pulling me with him. He opens the door and makes his way to another one in the basement. From there, he drags me down a flight of stairs until we're in a room that is reminiscent to a cellar. Two girls await us inside.

"Godric, you're back," a girl in a yellow dress remarks, turning at the sound of the door. However, as soon as she sees us, she pauses, her eyes trained on me.

"Who's that?" she asks, walking towards us. Gently, she raises her hand and cups my cheek, a curious glint in her eyes.

"What's your name?" she questions. I open my mouth silently, my eyes trained on her hand. My heart is beating wildly in my chest and a bead of perspiration is gathering on my brow. I need to say something… I try to force the words out, but they won't come. My eyes won't leave her hand.

"Helga," Godric says, gently pulling her hand off of me, "don't touch him unless you get his permission." Never have I ever been more thankful.

Helga looks at me, the curiosity in her eyes burning brighter, but nods nonetheless.

"Okay," she agrees. I nod my head in thanks, relief flowing through my veins as my heart slowly calms down. I don't like this. I especially don't like that I've already lost my cool within minutes of being here. This isn't how I imagined this going.

"Salazar Slytherin," I say abruptly, hoping to get this night back on track. Helga looks at me, some of her curiosity turning into amusement.

"Well, Salazar," she begins, curtsying. "My name's Helga. Helga Hufflepuff."

I nod at her and bow my head slightly.

"It's a pleasure."

"Helga?" a new voice calls, coming down the stairs. Within a second, a new face turns up. A girl in a dark blue dress slowly makes her way down the stairs, her icy blue eyes immediately seeking out Helga's. However, when the land on me, they narrow.

Oh, _great_.

"And who might you be?" she asks, making her way towards me. I give her a fake smile.

"Salazar Slytherin, at your service."

She looks at me, her gaze piercing and shakes her head. Her eyes finally trail over to Godric in question.

"Why him?" she asks. Perhaps, she was referring to something that sounds far more kind. However, to me, that was horribly rude.

At once, several different emotions seize me. On one hand, I feel embarrassed. It only took one look from the woman for her to pin me as worthless. Truly pathetic, if I am to be honest. On another, I feel angry; angry that a lowly witch would _dare_ speak of me in such a way. Even though I know she couldn't possibly know this, I did not go through several years of emotional and physical abuse at the hands of others for someone to _dare_ think of me in such a lowly manner. I did not _fight_ to survive only for someone to cast me aside at first glance.

Call me egoistic, but that simply _wasn't_ going to cut it.

"And who are you to ask?" I question her, glaring openly. Helga gasps in surprise, but I don't care. I'm too _enraged_ to care. "What do you know, you miserable little wench?"

Immediately, Godric's gaze flashes to me in anger and he pulls me to him roughly, his eyes a raging inferno.

"Don't talk like that!" he hisses. I stare at him, unrepentant.

"I merely stated the truth," I tell him, rolling my eyes. "Besides, she was the one being rude to _me._ I merely retaliated."

" _Actually_ ," the girl from before cuts in, "I was asking why Godric thought that you would be a good founder for the new school."

I look at her, my eyes wide.

"So, if you _want_ to throw around rude terms, I suppose I could be up for it."

Her eyes flash a deep and foreboding blue, _daring_ me to say something rude to her. I look away, wanting to apologize, but unwilling to let go of my pride.

"I guess that's a no, then?" she asks after a couple of seconds. I stay silent and she laughs. Going towards Helga, she takes her hand in hers and begins to go up the stairs.

"Oh, and Godric?" she calls, looking back. Said man pulls his gaze away from me. "I like his fire. Although, you need to tame him first, alright? Then he can be a part of our school."

Godric nods and the two women finally disappear up the stairs.

With them gone, Godric turns to look at me, all traces of anger carefully masked.

"Why'd you react like that?" he asks me softly. I hate that I like it.

"I thought she was judging me," I tell him nonchalantly, hoping he doesn't see how much the thought hurts me. He takes my hand in his and nods.

"She won't," he assures me. "All of us have been judged before. Rowena would never do that to someone else willingly."

I nod silently, still not quite believing his words. Sighing, Godric pulls me to him, uncaring of the fact that this probably looks wrong given the fact that we're two men.

"I brought you here, Sal," he whispers in my ear. "I promise that you won't be hurt as long as I'm around, okay?"

I bury my face in his chest, a lone tear escaping. I don't say anything, but Godric understands. He _always_ seems to understand.

* * *

 **Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge - Silver - Mandibuzz - Write about a formidable and scary female character.**

 **Arithmancy Assignment 2 - Egotistical, self-reliant, not an especially good judge of character.**

 **Quidditch Pitch - Godric's Hallow**

 **July Word Count: 1,156**


	128. Drabble 128: MerlinGellert

**Title: I Love You**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Merlin/Gellert**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

I'm sitting on the floor of my study, both of my feet crossed. Merlin is sitting behind me, his chest pressed against my back. Absently, his fingers play with my blonde locks, twisting and pulling them to his heart's content.

For a moment, I don't mind the man that is sitting behind me. Finally, I feel at peace. No longer does the thought of this ancient being pushing himself through time in search of his mate bother me. No longer does the thought of _me_ of all people having such a powerful mate confuse me.

Merlin chuckles to himself, as if aware of my thoughts, and leans in to place a chaste kiss on my neck.

"You think too much, love," he tells me softly. Contrary to what one may think, there is no anger there nor is there accusation. I lean into him, placing my notebook down and finally gracing him with my gaze.

"So do you," I retort. "I can always catch you thinking about your past."

Merlin stiffens behind me, his hand stilling in my hair. I frown, my eyes meeting his golden ones.

"It's okay, you know," I say, my voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I know you miss them."

He nods silently, his hands snaking down to hold me to him tightly. I smile.

"I love you," I whisper. Finally, he gives me a smile of my own. It's sweet and bright in its entirety. I twist my head around again to tenderly press a chaste kiss on his lips. "Don't forget that."

* * *

 **Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge - Platinum - Nidoking - Write a cross-gen slash.**

 **July Word Count: 261**


	129. Drabble 129: MerlinGellert

**Title: Soar**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Merlin/Gellert**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

It's snowing. Hundreds of small snowflakes fall to the ground, threatening to completely cover the pavement in a white sheet. Inside Godric's Hallow, a small cottage sits near the raging sea. It is within this cottage that Gellert Grindelwald and Merlin can be found.

The former sits at his desk, his hand moving rapidly across the page of his journal as he makes notes for future plans. The latter; however, can be found sitting on the ledge of the window, his gaze trained on the softly falling snow.

Minutes pass by in a comfortable silence before Merlin finally speaks.

"Why do you continue to stay here?" he asks, his voice soft. Gellert's hand stills mid-stroke, his eyes coming to rest on the lounging figure in confusion. He stares, his eyes narrowed in thought, before finally replying.

"I have unfinished business here," he tells him. Grabbing his pen, he continues to write, only absently noting that Merlin gets up from his spot by the window and makes his way towards him. It's not until the older wizard gently wraps his arms around Gellert's frame from behind that the other man pauses, his wide and confused eyes peering at the other.

"Don't you want to soar?" Merlin asks him breathlessly. "Don't you want to live your life to the fullest?"

"Where is this coming from?" Gellert questions, finally getting ahold of himself. "You know that I have to fight for the-"

"Greater good," Merlin finishes for him. "Believe me, I know that better than anyone."

"Then, why are you trying to stop me?" Gellert counters.

"Maybe, it's because I don't want you to trap yourself here," Merlin whispers, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on his younger lover's neck. "It could also be because I want you to fly like an eagle."

Gellert peers up at him, confusion shining in his gray eyes.

"Why an eagle?" he eventually asks, deciding to hear his lover out.

"Eagles are naturally skilled predators. They know what they want and they go for it full frontal. You, Gellert Grindelwald, are an eagle - _my_ eagle, to be specific, and you belong in the sky. This life isn't meant for you."

"I can't just leave," the blonde protests. "I'm not fighting for myself. Without me, magic will be tarnished. We have to save i-"

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" Merlin asks, one eyebrow raised in question. "I am _one_ with Lady Magic. I can guarantee you that she is more than okay with you taking a break from this."

The warlock breaths lightly on Gellert's ear, tightening his hold on the other man.

"I'm not saying that you should completely stop what you are doing. Knowing you, you would probably castrate me for saying it. No, what I want is for you to come with me and take a break."

The innocent gleam in Merlin's eyes captivates Gellert. It's one that speaks of adventure; one that speaks of _freedom_ , and despite himself, Gellert finds himself craving the liberty Merlin speaks of.

"…I don't know," he finally settles on saying. Merlin looks at him, his gaze soft, and gently takes his hand within his own, raising them both towards the sky.

"This can be you, my love," he promises. "Just one month. If you still don't like it, I'll bring you back, and we can pretend like this never happened."

Gellert looks at him, his resolve steadily slipping. Sighing, he finally nods, pulling their hands back down and gently pressing a kiss on the back of Merlin's.

"Well, Mr. Smooth Talker, you _better_ make this month count."

The pure glee in Merlin's eyes makes the younger blonde decide that yes, this was definitely worth it.

* * *

 **Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge - Bonus Shiny - Pidgeot - (Creature) Eagle**

 **Drabble Club: Desk**

 **Defense Against the Dark Arts - Assignment 1 - Write about a minor issue in a relationship. - My issue: A difference of opinions. Extra Prompt: (colour) White**

 **July Word Count: 622**


	130. Drabble 130: RowenaHelga

**Title: Promises in the Dark**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Rowena/Helga**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"What's wrong, my love?" Rowena asked.

Eyes the color of a raging ocean bore into Helga's own, analyzing her to the very core. The younger woman shivered, desperately trying to avoid her lover's gaze. Rowena sighed, her hand gently coming up to grasp Helga's cheek. Tenderly, she angled it towards her, frowning slightly when the other woman still refused to look at her.

"Sadness is not a look that you can pull off," Rowena said wisely, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the other's cheek. Helga's eyes widened in surprise and she finally met the other's gaze. Deep within Rowena's dark depths, sadness and concern could be found, enticing Helga to feel guilty for making the woman worry.

"It's nothing," Helga whispered, trying to put seriousness into her gaze. She fooled no one.

"Don't lie to me," Rowena told her. Slowly, she let go of Helga's cheek. However, she didn't pull away her intense gaze. "We promised to never to lie to each other."

"I didn't lie," Helga protested with a shake of her head. "It's silly. Not enough to warrant your concern."

"Everything concerning you warrants my concern," Rowena retorted fiercely. "Now, stop wasting both of our time and tell me what's wrong."

Helga looked down, her gaze contemplative, before sighing in defeat.

"Everyone says that I don't belong here… They say, that compared to you all, I'm not worthy of being a founder. I'm not exceptionally powerful and-"

She was abruptly cut off by Rowena's lips connecting with hers. Her lover's lips were demanding and Helga couldn't help but melt into the kiss.

Slowly, tenderly, Rowena finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting them. Her eyes were dark with anger as she regarded Helga.

"You are more of a founder than _any_ of us could be. You, who are kind and seek no gain for your efforts. You, who would put her life in the throes of danger in the hopes of saving another…. Don't you _ever_ let someone tell you that you're not worthy of being here."

"And besides… Do I look like the type of woman who would settle for just anyone?" Rowena asked, her eyes daring her to say otherwise. Helga shook her head in shock, unprepared for the smile that bloomed across Rowena's lips.

"Exactly," the older woman purred. "So, you obviously know that you are perfect, then."

She moved in and pulled Helga towards her, embracing her loosely.

"Never be sad, my love," she whispered in her ear. "Happiness is the only emotion that I wish to see on your face. It's the only salvation this world has left…"

Helga hugged her, tears streaming down her face. They stayed like that, their love flowing between them, and eventually went to bed. Meanwhile, the connection between them only deepened.

* * *

 **Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge - Platinum - Flareon - Write about someone whose sunny disposition cheers up others.**

 **Pairing the Character - Drabble Appreciation Week - Rowena/Helga**

 **July Word Count: 474**


	131. Drabble 131: RemusSirius

**Title: Kiss Me**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Remus/Sirius**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"It's not fair!" Sirius whined, shaking his head. "How come that stupid bitch got to kiss you, but I can't?!"

Remus sighed for what felt like the thousandth time today, rubbing his aching head in the hopes that his migraine would go away. Sirius had been complaining non-stop since he had walked in on Remus sharing a kiss with a fifth year Ravenclaw. It wasn't even what it looked like! The girl had come to him to borrow his notes and had tripped! It wasn't Remus' fault that she fell on him and they tumbled to the ground! Hell, it wasn't even his fault that their lips connected accidentally.

He truly hadn't meant to kiss her, but his boyfriend was giving him no reprieve. Sure, Remus had been the one to order Padfoot not to kiss him so he could study, but he hadn't done that so he could spend his time locking lips with a girl!

Shivering at the memory, Remus shook his head in an attempt to get rid of it. Of _course,_ Sirius had to remind him.

"She enjoyed it, too! I saw the little glint in her eyes when she got up! Moony, how could you do this to me?!"

He turned angry eyes towards Remus, but the young werewolf wasn't having it. He couldn't take this anymore! Crashing his lips against Sirius' own, Remus ruthlessly bit at the animagus' lips, delighting in the small gasp of pain the other released.

He plundered the other's mouth, staking his claim and demanding obedience. Sirius gave in willingly, his knees nearly giving out beneath him from the pleasure. Remus wrapped his arms around him to steady him and continued to dominate him, forcing Sirius to engage in a merciless waltz of their tongue.

Finally giving in to the need to breathe, Remus pulled away, smiling slightly at the glazed look in the other's eyes.

"Oh?" he questioned lightly, nonchalantly wiping his lips. "Do you want to say anything else?"

Sirius didn't respond to him. Instead, he kept his gaze pinned on the ceiling, his eyes hazy.

"Good," Remus said simply. "Your lack of eloquence was getting on my nerves."

Turning on his heels, he walked away. However, he had only gotten a mere ten feet away before he heard someone scream, "MOON PIE! WAIT FOR ME!"

A fond smile curled along his lips and he hurried along.

* * *

 **Pokemon Trading Card Collection Challenge - Bronze - Scraggy - Write about someone who can be described as having a thick skull.**

 **Hangman Challenge - letter E - Eloquent.**

 **July Word Count: 400**


	132. Drabble 132: RabastanHarry

**Title: Murderer?**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Rabastan/Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

The first time Harry saw him, time seemed to stop. Dark gray eyes bore into his own, illuminated solely by the moonlight that shined down above them. Short and black hair lay styled on the man's head, framing his face beautifully. His eyebrows were slightly thick, only adding to his masculine appearance. Then, his clothes… Oh, god… The man sported a plaid long-sleeved shirt, a black blazer on top of it. A quirky little bow tie was tied around his neck, and his black slacks fit him almost _too_ well.

Practically salivating, Harry had to stop himself from getting lost in the other's gaze. Instead, he forced himself to move forward and approach the gorgeous man. As it turns out, they had a lot in common. They hit it off, a promise of meeting later on lingering in the air.

They met again and again; their casual meetings turned into sweet dates. Their sweet dates turned into intense make out sessions. Intense make out sessions turned into making love. Making love turned into shagging roughly…

With every passing day, they fell further and further in love, the decadent promise of love in their air pushing them further and further along.

However, like all good things, their time together had to come to an end.

~~o-O-o~~

"Rabastan Lestrange, you are under arrest," a man in a police uniform said, securing the handcuffs. Rabastan huffed, struggling futilely against the bonds.

"You have the wrong man!" he insisted, his lips pulled into a snarl. The policeman laughed, the sound high-pitched and cold.

"That's what they all say," he told him, voice unrepentant. "Now, get in the damn car."

Pulling Rabastan towards his cruiser, he was just about to push the man in when they heard brakes screeching harshly in the distance. In a flash, a blue Toyota came around the corner, stopping directly in front of him. Harry was up and out of the car in a moment's notice, his eyes taking in the scene with shock.

"What are you doing?!" the twenty-year-old screeched, rushing towards them. He tried to bat the police man's hands away, a frown on his features.

"I'm taking this guy in," the man told him. "Look, kid, this is none of your business-"

"Continue that sentence, and I will break your arm," Harry threatened. The policemen recoiled in shock.

"You know, I can take you in for that, right?" he asked the other man, dumbfounded. Harry shrugged, his eyes flashing.

"I don't care. What right do you have to take him in?" Harry questioned harshly, gesturing towards his bound boyfriend.

"He's the leading suspect in a murder investigation," the officer said, sighing. "Look, come down to the station and we can talk about this. In the meantime, I'm taking your boyfriend in with or without your consent."

Not waiting for the raven haired boy's answer, the officer pushed Rabastan in the cruiser and drove to the police station, only noting absently that Harry got right back into his car.

 _God,_ the man groaned inwardly. _This whole thing was turning out to be a headache._

* * *

 **July Event - Harry Potter - Challenge - Harry Potter**

 **July Word Count: 523**


	133. Drabble 133: TomMerope

**Title: For the Sake of Family (Part 2)**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling.**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle/Merope Gaunt**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Note: This is a piece that I co-operated with SecretAgentV and Wolf Winks to make. I hope you all enjoy it! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not in any way, shape, or form, own the Harry Potter franchise or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"Hello, Tom," Merope says softly, gazing at the muggle with intrigue. Tom turns around, his dark gray eyes slowly crawling over her face. When he finally recognizes her, he huffs, annoyance radiating off of him.

"What do you want, Gaunt?" he sneers, his voice full of contempt. Merope frowns, feeling as if Tom had just slapped her.

"Why do you continue to call me by that wretched name?" she questions, her eyes wide. "You can call me, Merope, my dear."

"Don't call me that," Tom cuts in sharply. "I am _not_ your dear. Now, either tell me what you want from me or leave."

"Fine," Merope whispers, steeling herself. At once, her posture changes. Rather than slumping, she straightens her stance, allowing hardened blue eyes to gaze into Tom's.

"I have a proposition for you," she begins, her voice light. Tom stares at her, unimpressed. "If this proposition goes through, you will gain riches unlike the likes of which you've ever seen."

A musical lilt enters her tone, and she stares at Tom with dark promise. Tom, enticed by her words, looks at her with curiosity.

"What could you possibly do for me?" he asks, genuinely intrigued. Merope grins, the expression reminiscent of the Cheshire cat.

"Please, Tom," she huffs in faux annoyance. "The real question is what _can't_ I do for you. We all know that I'm a witch… Contrary to what other's believe, I can create gold from dirt. I can give you all the riches you could ever want…"

She trails off, allowing her voice to linger in the air. Tom looks at her, hunger in his gaze. He attempts to veil it, but he can't do it completely. He's lost, the promise of money lulling him into a state of need and desire.

"You could," Tom retorts, "but would you?"

Merope smirks, the look foreign on her features. Slowly, breathtakingly, she reaches out to Tom.

"I can and I _will._ If you do one thing for me, that is."

At once, Tom's demeanor changes. His curiosity simmers down, and he gazes at her with icy gray eyes.

"What do you want?" he asks her, his voice deadly. Merope shrugs, a little grin playing along the edges of her lips.

"Not much," she concedes. "I only wish for you to take this."

Reaching into her dress, she pulls out a small bag. With a quick wave of her hand, the bag enlarges. She wastes no time pulling out a red vial.

Tom looks at the vial wearily. His gaze wanders from her to her vial over and over again, thinking, wondering if he should really trust her.

"I can help you, Tom," Merope whispers, hoping to sweeten the deal. "All you have to do is drink the contents of this vial."

"What does it do?" he finally asks, reaching out to take it from her grasp. Merope smiles.

"It's something that will help me link the gold to you. This way, no one can take it without your permission," she says flippantly. Tom eyes her skeptically and then shrugs. Gently, he opens the vial and pours the content slowly down his throat, frowning at the slightly acidic taste.

Merope watches him, holding her breath in anticipation. However, before her very eyes, Tom's eyes roll to the back of his head and his knees suddenly buckle from underneath him.

* * *

 **Flying Lessons - Assignment 2 - Write about someone preventing a group/relationship/rivalry. Note: Can't be the Golden Trio.**

 **July Word Count: 568**


	134. Drabble 134: MerlinGellert

Title: Necklace of Ice

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Merlin/Gellert

Rating: Teen

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~-o-O-o~~

* * *

Gellert lays on his desk, his arms cushioning his head as he sleeps on, oblivious to the world around him.

Merlin watched him calmly from his place in the doorway, an indulgent smile curling along his lips.

The other wizard hadn't been getting much sleep lately. Apparently, his plans for the greater good far outweighed those for his health. It was only through a stealthily cast spell that Merlin finally got his beloved to rest.

Moving forward, Merlin approached his lover's desk, his hand slowly going into his pocket. He pulled out a brown pouch, the contents of which he gently deposited in his hand.

Admiring the beautiful adornment, he gently put it around his mate's neck, smiling slightly as he secured it. He stepped back, ready to admire his work. However, he was not prepared for Gellert to suddenly stir, his fingers twitching as he slowly regained consciousness.

Grinning to himself, he leaned down to gently run his hands through the other's blonde hair, waiting with anticipation for his younger lover to open his eyes.

After a moment, dark blue eyes slowly fluttered open, their owner yawning as he sat up to stretch. It took a moment, but he jumped when he registered the fingers in his hair.

Immediately, he spun around in his chair, a giant sigh of relief making itself known when he noticed that it was simply his minx of a lover.

"Don't do that!" he chastised. Leaning back in his chair, he glared at his laughing partner. "It's not funny."

"Oh, but it is," Merlin corrected him before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on Gellert's lips.

"Good morning, darling," he whispered, pulling back. Gellert smiled back despite himself and returned the sentiments sleepily.

The blonde reached his hand out to pick up a quill but paused when he felt a weight shift on his neck. Looking down, he paused, his eyes catching sight of the barest hint of blue.

Getting up, he walked to the bathroom, a gasp of surprise escaping him when he saw it in its entirety.

He came back into the room, gaping.

"Y-you," he stuttered, gazing at the smirking warlock in shock.

"Do you like it?" Merlin questioned, walking towards him and gently cupping the precious blue necklace. "I made it myself using some of the freshly fallen snow."

"I love it," Gellert told him, lightly fingering his necklace with a look of pure excitement. Looking up, he smiled at Merlin, the expression completely genuine.

Slowly, he walked to the other man, leaning into place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Thank you so much," he said, pulling back. Merlin beamed at him, leaning in to place a kiss of his own on Gellert's cheek.

"Anything for you, my love," he told him. "Now, go back to sleep. You work too much."

Gellert laughed at him and grabbed Merlin's hand.

"I will," he promised, "but you have to sleep with me."

The smirk that appeared on Merlin's face assured Gellert that sleeping was the last thing they would be doing.

* * *

Written for:

Fanfiction Month - August - 513

Charms - Assignment 2 - Task: Write about someone inventing something.


	135. Drabble 135: MerlinGellert

Title: Darling Pet

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Merlin/Gellert

Rating: Mature *I mean this!

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~-o-O-o~~

* * *

Glancing at the clock, Gellert made his way towards the door of their shared apartment. It was 5:34 PM. His lover would be home any moment now. Gently, lowering himself to the ground, he kneeled with his forehead pressed to the floor. His hands went behind his black, loosely holding one another. His legs were spread widely, his whole entire stance one of submission.

In the silence of the house, he could hear footsteps slowly approaching the door. They were full and heavy – familiar in their entirety. He waited, holding his breath, and had to force himself not to release a sigh of relief when the door open and closed silently before him. He didn't look up. Instead, he kept his head lowered to the floor, waiting for his Master to acknowledge him.

Moments passed in silence and Gellert could practically taste his Master as his stare bore into his kneeling form.

"Rise," was the single command. Allowing his body to relax, Gellert pulled his torso up until he was sitting up, slightly sitting on his haunches. His gaze was locked on the floor and he waited with a bated breath for his master to do something, anything to diffuse the static in the air.

A hand gently cupped his face, forcing his gaze up, and Gellert gleefully looked into his Master's beautiful brown eyes.

"Welcome home, My Lord," he whispered. His Master smiled at him. It wasn't an entirely kind one, though. This one was dark and foreboding, alerting Gellert to the fact that by the end of the night, he would be screaming in delirious pleasure.

"Hello, pet," his Master finally greeted, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Gellert's cheek. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes, Master," Gellert responded honestly. "It's lonely without you."

"Oh, that won't do," his owner told him, shaking his head. "What happened to the plans we designed?"

"I'm doing them," Gellert told him. "They just take a lot of time in between my chores."

"Bad, pet," his master chastised. "Good pets can make things happen. Are you a good pet, Gellert?"

The twenty-year-old nodded, his eyes shining with faux innocence.

"Always," he promised. "I'm always going to be your good pet."

His Master chuckled. A satisfied gleam in his eyes at his pet's enthusiasm.

"Good. Now, prove to me that you're a good pet and go wait in the bedroom."

Gellert nodded and crawled his way there, knowing that if he got up, he would be punished.

As soon as he reached the room, he didn't hesitate to pull off his clothes. His Master didn't like him wearing any in the bedroom, and he found he didn't have a problem with that. It was more liberating to be naked anyway. Getting onto the bed, he got into the same kneeling position from before. Every now and then, he shook, the small amount of wind coming from the open window making him tremble as it connected with his privates.

Soon after, his Master entered the room. The man didn't spare one look at him. Instead, he walked directly towards their play closet and took out several things. Gellert didn't dare look. He knew what would happen if he did.

Soon enough, his Master returned to his side, a wicked smirk on his face. Gently, he wrapped his fingers in Gellert's blonde locks, not hesitating to roughly pull his head back so he was looking directly into his Master's eyes.

"Are you ready to prove yourself, pet?" he asked curiously, leaning down to bite harshly at the skin of Gellert's neck. The blonde moaned, arching into the deliciously painful touch.

"Yes, Master," he gasped. "I want to serve you correctly."

Happy, his Master gently licked the wounds he inflicted, smiling at the little whine that ripped itself out of Gellert's throat.

"Such a good little slut," his master cooed. "So eager to fulfill my needs. I should reward you, no?"

Gellert didn't answer. The question was rhetorical and he knew it. Within the next second, he heard a small clinging before two metal bracelets settled themselves around his ankles. Looking up, he narrowed his eyes at his Master, feeling the first few sparks of fright beginning to make their way down his spine.

"Chains, Master?" he asked. His Master nodded, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Yes, pet. Chains just for you. Don't you like them?"

Gellert looked down at his bound feet, and couldn't help but shiver. These were a reminder that he was his Master's. No matter what he did, his Master wouldn't let him go, and the very thought excited him.

"Yes, Master," he replied, blushing. "I like them a lot."

"Good boy," his Master praised. "Now, make sure to scream nice and loud for me, okay?"

At Gellert's nod, his Master pulled out his first toy, delighting in the small gasp of surprise his pet released. For the rest of the night, the only sounds that could be heard from their apartment were loud screams and moaning.

* * *

Written for:

Fanfiction Month - August - 839

Gringotts Prompt Bank - Gringotts 1 - Prompts Black Butler Prompt List 1 - 2. (Expression) Smirking, 6. (Word) Master, 8. (Sound) Footsteps, 9. (Sound) Screams, 41. (Action) A character narrowing their eyes, 46. (Action) Blushing, 51. (Action) Chuckling. Black Butler Prompt List 2 - 1. (Time) 5: 34 PM, 7. (Atmosphere) Dark, 8. (Dark) Foreboding, 10. (Object) Chains, 95. (Dialogue) "Master?" - Haikyuu Prompt List 1 - 14. (Emotion) Frightened - Code Breaker Prompt List 1 - 39. (Action) Staring


	136. Drabble 136: BellatrixHarry

Title: Ickle Little Potter

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Bellatrix/Harry

Rating: Mature *I mean this!

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~-o-O-o~~

* * *

"Come here," a feminine voice orders. Slowly getting up from his perch on the floor, Harry goes to her. Bellatrix smiles when he comes to a stop in front of her, his eyes lowered to the ground submissively.

She had trained him well.

Reaching one manicured hand towards him, she grasps his face roughly, forcing him to look up and into her eyes. His green eyes were wide with fright and excitement, his hands shaking by his sides as he awaited her orders.

"Tell me, Ickle Potter," she coos. "Why should I let you live?"

He gulps, the sound reverberating throughout the room. Intrigued, Bellatrix watches the motion intensely, admiring the boy's Adam's apple as he swallows. Gently reaching forward with one hand, she lightly caresses the little ball at the base of his throat, delighting in the deep groan it elicits. Slowly, painstakingly, she thumps it with her hand, her eyes narrowing as the boy before her shivers.

"You little slut," she accuses. "You liked that, didn't you?"

Harry nods reluctantly, his whole entire body trembling as she does it again and again.

"Are you a pain slut?" she questions lowly, her voice a seductive purr. Harry looks away, his face erupting in red.

"None of that," Bellatrix commands, roughly pulling his face towards hers. "The truth. Now."

Harry looks into her eyes, searching for something. It takes a moment, but he reluctantly nods. Unfortunately for him, that was all the consent Bellatrix needed. She pulls him towards her, forcing his body to press against hers. Her lips eagerly press against his own demandingly, forcing Harry to submit to everything she does to him.

The boy does so willingly, his own mouth opening when she roughly bites his lips. He moans, his head dropping back in absolute pleasure as the witch inflicts delicious pain onto him,

"Poison," he finally whispers, his voice husky. Bellatrix hums, her dark gray eyes boring into his green ones imploringly.

"What did you say, pet?" she demands, leaning in to bite harshly at his collarbone. Harry groans.

"You're like poison," he elaborates. "The worst thing that I could ever get, but the thing that I want the most"

"Hmm?" she hums, her nails gently biting into his skin. "You want to die?"

"No," Harry tells her, arching into her touch. "I don't want to die, but I do want to feel death."

"Why?" she asks, genuinely curious. Deciding that the foreplay was over, she tears his shirt open and forces him onto the floor, delighting in the little yelp he lets out.

"I want to feel alive," Harry responds, his voice breathless. He's keening under her, little whines ripping themselves from his throat as he begs her for more.

"Bella," he groans. "Fuck me."

"I will," she tells him. Her voice is full of dark promise and it makes him shiver. "But first, I want to hear you scream."

Pushing her fingers into his skin, she pulls them up rapidly, watching with bated breath as her lover screams under her, his whole entire body seizing because of the pain.

"Good boy," she coos. "Don't stop screaming."

Like a good pet, Harry does exactly what she says. In the end, he wakes up the next morning, his voice hoarse and a satisfying sting in his back. Bella's smirk as she flounced around their room was one that could only be classified as pure evil.

Luckily for Harry, he wouldn't prefer it any other way.

* * *

Written For:

Fanfiction Writing Month - August - 573

One-shot Exchange - August 2015 - There's No Meaning - Bellatrix/Harry, Poison, Romance.

*I am sincerely sorry that this is late. Honestly, I had forgotten about this. I hope you enjoyed the story, though!


	137. Drabble 137: MerlinGellert

Title: Captured and Bound

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Gellert/Merlin

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

(~~o-O-o~~)

* * *

Getting up from his desk, Gellert stretched languidly, finally allowing his aching muscles a small reprieve. Slowly, he made his way across the room, his gaze intent on the window. Outside, he could see the cloudy skies, their depths dark and murky because of the impending rain.

It was early afternoon by now and he had been working for hours. While he didn't regret it, Gellert found that working towards the greater good was very time-consuming. Sighing, he made his way back to his leather chair and sat down, his gaze contemplative.

He needed to launch another raid. The purpose of it; however, wouldn't be utter destruction. No, instead, he needed this raid to act as a means of gathering. He needed more materials if he wished to succeed. The question now was: who would he entrust with this? He couldn't go on the raid. Especially because of the scrutiny he was getting from the town's population.

If he risked discovery, he would be killed, no questions asked. Thus, him going wasn't an option. Perhaps, he could send Albus? His 'friend' wasn't under that much scrutiny. In fact, he was well liked. If he was caught, he may not even be killed…

Absorbed in his plans, Gellert didn't realize there was an intruder in his office until a whispered spell met his ears. Even though he darted around at the sound of it, he was not fast enough to dodge the bright blue light that made contact with his body.

His whole entire body went limp, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. In the shadows, a figure grinned; the expression full of dark promise.

Gellert Grindelwald would be his...

* * *

(~~o-O-o~~)

* * *

Dark blue eyes slowly fluttered open, their gaze calculating as they took in their surroundings.

Based on the dark gray walls made of cement and the small and enclosed space, Gellert decided that it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to say that he was in a cellar. He, himself, sat in a wooden chair, ropes tied around his wrists and legs. His captor, it seems, decided to leave him without a blindfold or gag; something that Gellert was immensely grateful for.

He felt helpless enough with the ropes that bound him to the chair. It was embarrassing to have been one-upped by someone. Especially in his own home! Scowling, Gellert looked around to see what else he could make out in the cellar he was in. However, it was too dark for him to see much of anything else. Scowl deepening, he closed his eyes, knowing that if he was patient and waited, his captor would eventually come.

When that time came, Gellert would make sure to obtain their identity and manipulate them into letting him go. Then, when he was finally free, he would come back and kill them. It would not due for someone to get the idea that they could beat him so easily.

No… That would not do at all.

* * *

(~~o-O-o~~)

* * *

Hours passed by in silence. His captor never came and Gellert slowly lost hope that he would come that day, after all. Thankfully, though, right when he was on the brink of giving up, it happened.

Footsteps slowly echoed throughout the corridors outside, the sounds loud in the previously uninterrupted silence.

Blinking, Gellert sat up, his gaze settled intensely on the door. It was time. The moment of truth had finally come. He would meet his captor once and for all.

The door opened slowly, a loud and ominous creaking coming from the aged furniture. Light flooded the room, almost blinding Gellert with its brightness. Soon, his eyes adjusted to the vast amount, and the man was left breathless at what he saw.

A young man stood before him, his short and dark hair framing his face beautifully. His cheekbones weren't angular, but they weren't chubby either. They had a small amount of baby fat on them, giving him the appearance of a roguish boy.

His outfit consisted of a long sleeved white shirt and a black leather vest on top of it. He had on tight black trousers underneath them that hinted at what could be found underneath.

All in all, he was gorgeous, and even Gellert found himself captivated by his beauty. Knowing that this was a dangerous path, he forced himself to wipe all traces of emotion off of his face. He wouldn't show interest; especially not to his captor.

"Who are you?" he asked nonchalantly. To anyone else, he was barely paying attention to the man before him. That wasn't true, though. His eyes were intensely focused on the man before him. He watched as the man moved closer to him, a small grin on the boy's features.

"I'm Merlin," he whispered. "Merlin Emrys."

Gellert's eyes widened slightly at the name, his whole entire stance changing.

"You're lying," he accused. "Merlin is dead. You're an imposter."

The boy smiled at him, the expression full of pity.

"Oh, believe me," he began, coming even closer. Soon, he was right in front of Gellert, his dark hazel eyes peering into the other's blue ones. "I am very much alive."

"Really?" Gellert asked skeptically. "If you were Merlin, why would you waste your valuable time abducting me?"

The gleam in the warlock's eyes brightened, a dangerous tint making itself known in their depths.

"Because, Gellert," he replied, his voice suddenly husky. "I wanted to see the man behind the mask."

"What are you going on about?" The Dark Lord asked, intrigued. Merlin leaned forward, placing his palms on the armrest of Gellert's chair.

"I know your secret," the wizened wizard whispered. "I've heard many stories about you, but I know that they all lacked…something."

"What did they lack?" Gellert questioned, finally allowing a hint of intrigue to show on his face.

"Just how broken you really were," was the simple answer. Merlin pulled back abruptly, a cocky little grin curling along his lips. Gellert frowned, looking at the other man in boredom.

"Me?" he questioned. "I'm not broken."

"Oh, but you are," Merlin breathed. "You fight for the greater good, no?"

At Gellert's nod, he continued.

"This 'greater good' can't fulfill you like you want it to. Rather than helping you, it will steadily destroy you until you finally shatter. You'll become a broken piece of glass in the grand scheme of things."

"Even if I were to believe you, why does this interest you?" Gellert asked skeptically.

"It interests me because you are _mine_ ," Merlin replied, shrugging his shoulders. The Dark Lord looked at him, an expression of disbelief on his features.

"I belong to no one," he protested with a shake of his head. "Much less you."

"Oh, no," Merlin told him, leaning in again. His hands laid on the armrests of Gellert's chair, his face only inches away from Gellert's own.

"You've _lost_ , sweetheart. You sit here because I _want_ you to sit here. Your days of endless terror are over. From now on, you _will_ follow what I say. Do you know why you'll do that, Gellert?"

Merlin's breath gently caressed his captive's cheeks. His eyes bore into Gellert's own, commanding in their own right. His power was palpable in the air, crackling and sizzling around them like a firecracker.

"You'll do it because you _want_ to. During your time here, I'm going to train you to need me more than you've ever needed anything before. During your stay here, your body will recognize me as it's Master, and you will _beg_ me to keep you with me."

"You're nothing but a perverted swine!" Gellert hissed, his face erupting in red. "I would never give in to the likes of you. Now, unhand me this instant!"

Merlin clicked his tongue in annoyance and shook his head.

"You don't say those kinds of things! Not to me, at least," he barked commandingly. Gellert rolled his eyes and looked him in the eyes stubbornly.

"You will never get me to submit to you. Not even at the face of death," the Dark Lord declared, his eyes burning with determination. Merlin stared at him, an odd gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, how I look forward to breaking you," the wizened wizard whispered. "I'll leave you to yourself for now, but remember this: You are mine. You can't escape your fate."

With that said, Merlin pulled away and made his way towards the door. He didn't spare Gellert one last glance before he walked out.

Once the door shut, the remnants of Gellert's mask fell and he couldn't help the expletives that came from his mouth.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispered, his head thrown back in exhaustion. Blue eyes locked onto the ceiling, their depths hazy as he replayed the events that transpired in his head.

He was well and truly trapped… Fuck, indeed.

* * *

Written For:

Convince Me Competition - Merlin/Gellert

OTP Boot Camp - Round 1 - Merlin/Gellert - "You don't say those kinds of things!"

One Prompt, Many Fandoms - Harry Potter - Broken Glass

The Ultimate Prompt Challenge - Color Prompt - Blue

Pokemon Trading Card Collection - Gold - Ekans - Write about a kidnapping.

August Word Count: 1,484

Gringotts Prompt Bank - Prompts: 42. (Scenario) An Abduction, 13. (Time of Day) Early Afternoon, 14. (Weather) Cloudy, 27. (Action) Walking, 26. (Action) Walking, 16. (Objects) Rope, 37. (Emotion) Helpless, 27. (Action) Blinking, (Word) Calculating, 15. (Scenario) Eyes following a character, 63. (Color) Blue, 64. (Color) Black, (Action) Laughing at someone weaker, 23. (Action) Looking down at someone, 28. (Action) Grinning, 24. (Emotion) Cocky, 26. (Emotion) Perverse, 34. (Emotion) Nonchalant, 18. (Word) Lost, 24. (Action) Walking away dramatically.


	138. Drabble 138: RowenaHelga

Title: Kisses Under the Moonlight

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Rowena/Helga

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

(~~o-O-o~~)

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Helga asks curiously, stumbling a little. Rowena slows down from her rapid gait and looks back at her, a tender smile on her face.

"You'll see," she says. Helga huffs at the obvious dismissal of her question and allows the other girl to pull her forward again.

They were in the Forbidden Forest. The dozens of trees they passed were a mere blur as they continued on their trek. They had been walking for hours and Helga was beginning to wonder if they were going around in circles. Finally, after a few more minutes, the trees began to grow sparse and they reached an empty clearing.

Rowena, obviously more enthusiastic, hurriedly pulls Helga towards the center of it, smiling at the little Hufflepuff's gasp of surprise when she sees the small picnic laid out in front of her.

"Please, sit down," she whispers, gesturing towards the blanket in front of them. Helga smiles at her and does just as asked, giggling softly.

"Not that I'm complaining," she begins, "but why did you bring me here?"

Rowena meets Helga's questioning look head on and points up, watching in fascination as the other woman's eyes widen.

Above them, the sky is completely void of any clouds. Instead, the stars twinkle down at them merrily, making the mood seem even more romantic. The moon shines brightly in the sky, looking down at them with a soft glow.

It's beautiful and Helga can't help the tears that come to her eyes. For Rowena – the normally icy and cold Witch – to bring her here of all places…!

"Hey, what's the matter?" Rowena asks her softly, leaning in to cup Helga's cheeks. The yellow-clad girl looks at her and pulls her close, looking straight into the normally inexpressive blue eyes.

She doesn't know who moves first. One moment, they're gazing into each other's eyes and – in the next – they're clutching at each other's shoulders, their lips locked in a heated frenzy.

Slowly, almost tenderly, they pull back, basking in the cold air that cools down the raging inferno their bodies have become.

"I love you," Rowena whispers, gently rubbing Helga's cheek with her thumb.

"I love you too," Helga returns, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the other's cheeks.

They sit there for the rest of the night, enjoying the new step their relationship has taken. Never before had they ever been so happy, and they vow to retain this happiness for as long as they lived.

As they wished it, it would be.

* * *

Written For:

Fem-slash Drabbleathon - Rowena/Helga - First Kiss

August Word Count: 447


	139. Drabble 139: BellatrixAlice

Title: Crimson Rivers

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Bellatrix/Alice

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

(~~o-O-o~~)

* * *

Alice isn't quite sure what attracted her to the ferocious Slytherin. On one hand, it could have been the fact that she was untamed. Bellatrix Lestrange would do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. She never let anything get to her, and she never let anyone tell her what to do.

Perhaps that's why Alice came to love her. Unlike the small girl, Bellatrix didn't need anyone's approval. She was like the ocean; wild and free. Alice desperately wanted to be like that; desperately wanted to _not_ care what others thought, but she couldn't. For her, it was impossible.

Perhaps, it was because Bellatrix was beautiful? Unlike the other girls, Bellatrix's confidence only added to her appeal. Wild black curls fell down her head in large rings, intimidating all who gazed upon her. The girl always wore black, claiming that she held no tolerance for light colored clothing.

They were so entirely different that it was almost inconceivable that they would connect on an emotional level, but they did. They actually did and that fact astounded Alice even more.

She wanted it; craved the feeling of delirious pleasure that the other girl somehow manages to instill in her.

Bellatrix didn't do the waiting game. When she wanted something, she went for it. Alice was no exception.

She had come to Alice and had simply kissed her on the mouth, demanding that the pixie-like girl be hers when they parted. Alice could remember the face of her best friend, Frank when he had witnessed it. He had looked sad, but Alice couldn't focus on that. All she could see was Bellatrix as the other girl pulled her towards her room.

They made love there, Bellatrix not even taking the time to be gentle. Alice didn't mind it. She didn't _want_ gentle. The Slytherin was wild and that transferred over into the bedroom. The girl had made her bleed, but Alice loved it. She had begged for more like a slut and arched into the tantalizing touch, absolutely _adoring_ the crimson liquid that flowed out of her due to the other's ministrations.

It was weird.

It was horrible.

It was lovely.

It was _delicious_ …

Alice wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Written For:

Fem-slash Drabbleathon - Bellatrix/Alice - Crimson

August Word Count: 376


	140. Drabble 140: PansyHermione

Title: Mine

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Pansy/Hermione

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

(~~o-O-o~~)

* * *

They were from two different worlds. One was a Slytherin; one that had hated the other earlier on. The other was a Muggleborn; one that had pushed certain prejudices on someone who didn't believe in them.

They were two different people – two people that should never have gotten along.

Sad thing was, they did. Their darkness matched each other. The need for control they both harbored could only be satisfied by the other. If there was anything even remotely close to soulmates that were real, they would fit it to a tee.

Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger were one. They just didn't know it until that moment.

* * *

(~~-o-O-o~~)

* * *

They had run into each other in the hall. Both of their items had fallen to the ground and they both had reached to get them, glaring at each other all the while. Their hands touched – the unwelcome notion bringing forth a very unexpected reaction.

Both of them immediately recoiled, their eyes wide as a pleasurable thrill shot up their spine, lighting their bodies with a fire they had never thought possible.

Honestly, they weren't sure who moved first. In the next moment, they were feverishly kissing one another, Pansy pinning Hermione to the wall harshly.

"Mine," she growled into the eager lips. Hermione smirked into the kiss, one of her hands coming up to grip harshly at Pansy's hair.

"No," she snarled. "You're mine."

Pansy had moaned at the possession in her voice, arching up into her and grinding her pelvis down along Hermione's. The brown haired girl moaned, her head being thrown back in pleasure.

Not one to be outdone, she raked her fingernails down Pansy's back, delighting in the pleasured scream the other girl released.

Their darkness intertwined with the other's, creating something that they knew should never be released into the world. They didn't care. They continued on, their bodies molding against one another's as pleasure took a hold of them.

In the end, when they were calming down from their almost drunken high, they looked at each other, a satisfied gleam in their eyes.

They belonged to each other. Sure, they didn't love each other yet, but they could manage to appreciate each other through carnal activities.

* * *

Written For:

Fem-slash Drabbleathon - Pansy x Hermione - Darkness

August Word Count: 367


	141. Drabble 141: RegulusJames

Title: Illuminare

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Regulus/James

Rating: Mature

Note - Written for Dolby Digital for the August one-shot exchange. Prompts: James/Regulus, Angst/Romance, and (word) transparent.

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

Illuminare

Regulus Black/James Potter

For Dolby Digital

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _"Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading, so sick and tired of all the needless beating."_

 _~I Don't Love You, My Chemical Romance_

* * *

My whole entire world is falling apart, and I'm helpless to stop it.

My friends are moving on with their lives, oblivious to the turmoil that plagues me. How can I blame them? They want love just as much as I do. They have the right to go and find it within one another. Besides, it's not like I'm completely innocent either. I did the same thing with my beloved.

Oh, Lily…

Just like the others, she had left me too. Apparently, I was much too clingy. Looking back on it, I think it had been Lily that broke me the most.

I remember the day when she finally gave in to my advances. I was so happy; so _ecstatic_ that the girl I loved, loved me back. How was I to know that she didn't? How was I to know that the only reason she went out with me was simply because she wanted to get me off of her back? How was I to know that my love was unwanted again?

I had given her everything. I gave her my love, my devotion, my loyalty… Hell, I had even given her my money when I bought her several expensive gifts. I hadn't cared. She was my beloved and I wanted her to have a constant reminder of that love.

How was I to know that she would later break my heart and leave me in shambles…?

Perhaps, I'm just not fit for her. Perhaps, I'm just not fit for _anyone_ to love. The very thought depresses me.

Curling up on my bed, I huddle into a ball.

My days are lonely, my heart is in pain, and my friends don't realize it.

My life is great, no?

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Bewitching gray eyes stare at me from across the room, captivating me with their beauty. They look so much like Sirius', yet they appear to be so much _more_. Unlike his, they won't release me from their hold.

It was only a glance – one curious little look by a Gryffindor to see what the Slytherins were up too. I just didn't expect to be drawn to someone whose eyes were so intense.

A moment passes and the other boy finally releases me from captivity. He looks away and my eyes drop to the table before me, my breathing slightly heavy.

Had that been Sirius' brother, Regulus? Blimey, when did he get so…

Wait, what had I been about to say? I can't go there – not with Sirius' brother. That would be wrong; _terribly_ wrong.

 _Beautiful_ , a voice in my head supplies. _You were going to ask when he became so beautiful…_

When I rush out the room, I dutifully ignore the concerned looks Remus and Sirius shoot me.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"What do you want, Lily?" I ask softly, looking into her eyes. Once upon a time, they had reminded me of freshly rained upon grass; harmless yet mesmerizing… Now, though? Now, they remind me of betrayal and heartbreak.

"Your friends are worried about you," she tells me. "I hate to admit it, but I am too. What's going on with you, James? Are you still not over our break-up?"

"No," I whisper honestly. "I'm not, but that's none of your concern, is it?"

She looks at me, her eyes wide with shock.

"It will always be my concern!" she says furiously, her eyes flashing with anger. "Believe it or not, I care about you, James."

"No, you don't," I protest. "If you truly cared about me, you wouldn't have played with me like that."

She looks at me in desperate shock. She wants to defend herself; wants to tell me that I'm lying, but she _can't_. She knows that the words won't help her; knows that, if anything, her protest would only make me hate her.

I know that the very thought of me hating her hurts her. She may not love me, but she does care about what I think of her. To her, I'm a manifestation of her ego. I tell her how pretty she is; tell her how desirable she is, and she's grown used to that.

It's twisted and downright _nasty_ , but it's true.

"Look," I sigh. "Don't worry yourself over this. We've broken up, I am not your problem anymore. Just let this drop, Lily."

Finally, she pulls herself together. Her emerald eyes gaze at me sadly, but she does nod. She walks towards the door and glances back at me.

"Will we ever be what we once were?" she asks softly. I look at her, my gaze unusually cold.

"No," I vow. "We will _never_ be what we could have been."

She nods and walks out. With her departure, tears come to my eyes. I can't help the tears any more than I can help the sobs that wrack my frame.

It's over… Well and truly over. We could never be together; could never be partners, and the very thought made me want to shrivel up and die.

 _It's for the better_ , I tell myself. _Like this, I won't get hurt._

If that was true, why did I feel like I was being torn apart by grief?

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

It's been a week since that day. While Lily sometimes stares at me, we haven't talked since then. I ignore her and continue on with my duties, leading my team to victory in Quidditch. To get my mind off of the pain, I've immersed myself into my studies.

Naturally, Remus and Sirius are worried. They know that I'm not huge on studying and for me to suddenly be all about it, something had to be wrong. While I told them the basics, I haven't told them that I miss them. I refuse to be clingier than I need to be. If they want to hang out with each other more than they want to hang out with me, they can. I won't stop them. I won't make the same mistakes I made with Lily.

Heading to the library, I make my way towards the very back. Not many people know this, but the back of the library has a table right near a window. The natural sunlight reigns down upon the table, illuminating the area. Also, it has wonderful chairs and is far enough from the front to be peaceful and quiet.

When I actually get there, I pause, my eyes wide. Regulus sits peacefully in one of the armchairs, his shoulder length black hair framing his face beautifully. He reaches up and pushes a stray strand behind his ear, revealing his captivating gray eyes. The sun is hitting him just right, lighting his face in a magnificent way.

I can't help but gulp, the sound drawing his wicked gaze towards me.

"James, right?" he greets. I nod.

"Don't just stand there," he orders, gently lowering his book. "Come sit down."

I look at him, but I do follow his orders. My mind has conjured up all sorts of thoughts, and I can't help but sneak a look at him. He smiles back at me and goes back to his book.

Determined to ignore him, I reach into my bag and grab my textbooks. We read in companionable silence, the only sounds being that of the occasional turn of a page.

For the first time in a long time, I feel at peace.

…That scares me more than I'd like to admit.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Ever since that day, Regulus and I would sit at the table in the back of the library. We had a non-spoken agreement. We would sit there in companionable silence and make the occasional small talk. Recently, though, we've been talking for longer periods of time. As it turns out, we have a lot in common.

Just like me, Regulus has been hurt by others. Just like me, Regulus pays more attention to studying in an effort to hide his pain. Just like me, Regulus pretends to be transparent. Just like me, Regulus is lonely.

We fill the void in each other – our presence a welcome reprieve from all the pain and suffering we have to endure.

By now, I value him more than anyone.

Unlike Remus and Sirius, he always makes time for me. Unlike Lily, he isn't bothered by my constant presence. Instead, he relishes in it.

I'm happy…

For the first time in a very long time, I am happy. I'm truly content – something that I can't help but bask in.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"James," Regulus begins, his gray eyes suddenly looking up from his book. I startle and smile at him, sighing a little.

"Dude, don't do that," I chastise. He grins apologetically.

"Sorry. I was just wondering; would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

I stare at him, my eyes wide, and then nod my head vigorously.

"I'd love to," I tell him. A genuine smile curls along the edges of my lips, and he matches it with one of his own.

"Perfect," he tells me. He stares at me before leaning in and brushing a strand of hair from my eyes. "Truly perfect."

I blush a bright red and cough awkwardly. Looking down, I continue reading my book, grinning a little when Regulus chuckles to himself.

Maybe things are going to get better for a change?

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

The very next Hogsmeade weekend is one I'm bound to never forget. Regulus, true to his word, comes with me to the different shops. We play around, laughing and joking. Along the way, we bump into Sirius and Remus. While Sirius says it's going to take him awhile for him to get used to seeing me with his brother, he doesn't care. In fact, he says he's happy that Regulus is away from his 'bitch' of a mother's influence. I can't help but laugh at that.

Parting from them, we go shopping and just spend the rest of the day goofing off. It's heavenly. Regulus is just so kind and funny; it's hard not to have a good time when I'm with him.

At the end of the day, we decide to not go back to Hogwarts with the rest of the students. I know a way back in, so it'd be fine.

Instead, we walk to the outskirts of the town and enter the forest, heading towards a clearing. When we get there, Regulus gasps in surprise at the dozens of stars that litter the air above us.

Gently, I guide him towards the middle of the clearing and we sit down, admiring the little fireflies that fly around us. It's peaceful and we're quickly lulled into a sense of tranquility.

Honestly, I don't know who moves in first. One moment, we're talking to each other softly. In the next, we're gently kissing one another, our tongues engaging in a sweet waltz.

When we pull back, there are no words. We don't talk it out. Instead, we hug each other; allowing the lonely feelings in us to slowly fade due to the other's touch.

Regulus makes me happy. I love him.

Finally, I've obtained happiness.

* * *

 **August Word Count: 1,870**


	142. Drabble 142: RowenaHelga

Title: Beast in the Woods

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Rowena/Helga

Rating: Teen

Note - This is an alternate universe.

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Deep within the Forbidden Forest, a monster lurks. All of the Hogwarts alumni and staff had been warned to never venture into the dark recesses of the forest. However, young Helga Hufflepuff couldn't help herself. Her curiosity burned brightly within her, practically taking her captive and forcing her to explore the dangerous ground.

In her dark yellow nightgown, she bravely went into the forest, a lantern acting as her only guide. She wandered aimlessly for hours, her bright and intense gaze flickering up into the clouds every now and then in an effort to determine her location.

Finally, when she was on the verge of giving up, it happened. Ahead of her, she could hear the sounds of heavy feet thumping against the leaf covered ground. Her surroundings shook harshly, the hidden beast ahead of her messing up the usually peaceful terrain.

Heart thumping rapidly in her chest, the small witch made her way closer and closer, a small trickle of fear racing down her spine as the beast's heavy footfalls finally stopped.

She, too, ceased movement, waiting hesitantly for the large creature to show itself. It didn't disappoint her, either.

With a large and ferocious growl, it gracefully jumped from its hidden perch in the trees, it's large teeth gleaming threateningly with saliva. Helga screeched, her whole entire body freezing in shock.

The large monster before her was as menacing as it was beautiful. Dark blue fur covered its body, looking soft and fluffy. Piercing blue eyes stared back at her, the flames of hell seeming to reflect from their very depths.

It was mesmerizing.

Astounded, Helga didn't think twice about what she did next. Slowly, _eagerly_ , she moved forward, her hand reaching out to pet the large creature. It moved back, eyeing her warily.

"Don't be afraid," she soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The creature looked deep into her eyes and nodded, as if it understood her. Slowly, she reached out again, and the large animal leaned in, her hand butting against the soft fur with a pleasant thump.

Helga gasped, her eyes wide at just how soft the creature's fur was. It purred beneath her ministrations, its ice blue eyes closing softly in happiness.

"Beautiful," Helga whispered into the air. The creature looked up at her, a smug gleam in its eye. Rolling her eyes, Helga gently allowed herself to fall onto the floor of the forest, pulling the creature along with her. Tenderly, she caressed its fur, a fond smile coming across her lips.

"I wonder, why people fear you?"

The creature gave no answer. Instead, it simply watched her, purring every so often as she rubbed behind its ear. Soon, Helga had to go. She wished the creature farewell and promised that she would be back the following night. Unfortunately for her, she didn't notice the small chuckle the beast released as it morphed back into its human form.

"Oh, Helga," a feminine voice cooed. "You are just too cute."

* * *

 **Fem-slash Drabbleathon - Rowena/Helga**

 **Pokemon Card Trading Collection - Dugrito - Platinum - Write about an earthquake.**

 **August Word Count: 497**


	143. Drabble 143: TomHarry

Title: The Devil's Playground

Author: Firediva0

Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2,987

Warnings: Abuse, language, suggestive situations, and alternate universe.

Summary: After being hit by the one person he loves; Harry is forced to endure trying tasks. On the verge of losing all hope, he resorts to drastic measures. Meanwhile, his best friends are suspicious of the change in their friend. After a visit to his house, they discover his startling secret. Will they make it in time to save him, or will Riddle completely destroy Harry forever?

Author's Note: This was written for round 9 of Quidditch League. My name is Firediva0 and I am the Keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps. My prompt was 'The Rescuers'. Please note that this is an alternate universe. The elements of the Disney Film that I used was a rescue, two rescuers, a discovery, a capture, and a devilish theme.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Resting my head on my knees, I finally allow the tears to fall.

Life has become hell. Distantly, I can remember a time where I was happy here, but that time has long since passed.

To me, Tom Riddle had been _everything_. He was the only person who could stir up strong emotions inside of me. With him, I was feral and cocky. I needed him; I needed everything he could provide me, and Tom did nothing to stop this.

Instead of chastising me, he would encourage it. He _wanted_ me to be that way. Looking back on it, I can't help but feel embarrassed. I remember how possessive I was of him. On one hand, I can blame that on my childhood, but I have known the truth since then.

Tom was my rock. In my head, he was _mine._ No one could touch him, and if they did, they had to pay. Tom was just so perfect, so beautiful in his intellect, and I found myself selfishly wanting to keep him. He was a possession to me, something that I wanted to keep to myself for all of eternity.

If only I knew that, beneath the kind facade, lurked the Devil himself.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"I'm home," Tom calls out. Getting up from my perch on our bed, I run towards the stairs. Within a few seconds, Tom comes into my view and I can't help the sheer happiness that makes itself known in my stomach.

I don't hesitate to throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck in a hug. Stumbling a little bit, he wraps his arms around me, a small chuckle coming from his lips.

"One day, you're going to make us fall," he points out.

"I don't care," I tell him, shaking my head stubbornly. He sighs in fondness and leans down to place a chaste kiss on my hair.

"Unfortunately for you," he begins, his crimson eyes boring into my own, "I do."

At once, he releases me, and I groan at the lost.

"Tom," I complain. "I wanted more cuddle time."

He laughs, the sound rich and deep, and I find myself loving it. While I don't hear it much, whenever Tom laughs, the sound comforts me. The way it starts off slow and deep only to get lighter and higher as time goes on is simply mesmerizing.

It's just so _Tom_.

Smiling a little despite myself, I head towards the couch, hearing Tom as he does the same. I sit down on it and curl up into a ball, completely ecstatic when Tom comes to sit down and pulls me to his side. We sit there for a while, the comforting noise of the television lulling us into a state of tranquility.

Normally, Tom doesn't let his guard down like this, so I've come to appreciate the small moments when he does. Sighing in contentment, I allow my eyes to fall shut.

Eventually, I fall asleep, the warmth of Tom's body and the soft thumping of his heart acting as the sweetest lullaby.

…If only I knew of the crimson eyes that glinted wickedly down at me.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Tom has to go handle business today.

I don't like that.

Instead of doing something extremely degrading like begging him to stay, I look to the side stubbornly, hoping that all of my rage is visible to him.

Distantly, I can hear Tom sigh, and I have to fight the small smile that threatens to overtake my face.

"Harry," he calls, "don't be like this."

I shake my head and climb in bed, bringing our blue covers to rest above my head. I can hear Tom taking several steps towards me and can practically _taste_ his gaze with how intensely he's looking down at me.

"It's only going to take an hour," he tells me. I shake my head stubbornly even though I know he can't see it.

"Don't go," I tell him for what feels like the thousandth time. He sighs, this time, a twinge of irritation lacing his tone. I should probably care about that… I don't.

"You're acting like a child," he informs me. Again, I don't care. If I have to act like a child in order to get him to stay, hand me a bib and a rattle now.

"Stay," I tell him, finally coming out from under the covers. I look at him, my eyes pleading. "Please?"

He looks at me and then looks at the door repeatedly. His gaze finally lands on me after a moment and he doesn't break our eye contact.

I can feel my hands begin fidgeting at my sides, but I'm determined. Tom has to stay. Him leaving is not a possibility. I don't care whether or not it's to take care of business.

"Give me one good reason and I'll stay," he finally tells me. I gleefully look up at him, but that glee is short-lived. I look to the side, contemplating. Do I tell him the main reason, or do I tell him something else? As if knowing what I'm thinking, Tom hooks a finger under my chin and pulls it up until I'm looking straight at him.

"The truth only," he orders.

I look at him and nod slowly. I open my mouth and mumble.

"What was that?" he questions. I look at him, my cheeks erupting in pink. I'm the one that asked him to stay; I _have_ to do this. If I do this, Tom will stay with me. I can handle a little embarrassment in return… right?

I stay quiet, unsure of how to voice it. My pride is going against my mind. I don't know what to do; I don't know what to _say._ How do you tell your partner that you're afraid that they'll meet someone better?

Tom, it seems, has no time for this. He heads to the door with a rueful shake of his head.

"Don't tell me, then," he sighs. Panic surges through me and I hastily try to get up from the bed, almost tripping twice because of the covers.

"Wait!" I yell. Tom pauses and turns, his red eyes boring into my green ones.

"Are you ready to tell me?" he asks, one eyebrow raised. I look to the side and he sighs. He walks towards me and extends one hand to caress my hair.

"Tell me," he demands. I finally give in, deciding to say what's on my mind.

"You'll meet someone better," I tell him lowly. Tom's hand stills and I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. "Just like everyone else, you'll leave me."

I open my mouth to continue, but a harsh tug on my hair stops me. I look up to meet Tom's eyes questioningly, but he's glaring at me.

"I am _not_ your uncle,"he snarls. "I won't abandon you."

I look at him, searching his face for any cues to see if he's lying, but find none.

Satisfied, I sigh and look towards the door.

"Go," I whisper. He looks at me for a moment and then shakes his head.

"No," he refutes, climbing into the bed with me. "I'm going to stay here and make you see just how…hmm, _different_ I am from your uncle."

The dark promise in his voice coupled with the glint in his eyes has me smiling, my hands reaching out to pull him close.

"Well, Mr. Riddle," I purr, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "I think you should show me multiple times. In _many_ different ways."

The smile on Tom's face can only be described as feral.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Naturally, good things must always come to an end. The first time Tom had hit me had been followed by tears and declarations of love. That should have been the first clue. I should have _known_ that it was going to happen again, but the love I felt for him blinded me.

Love still had me within its confines.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes throughout the room, taunting me with the events that have just transpired. I look up, my hand coming to rest on the blooming spot of red on my cheek. I can already feel the skin beginning to swell.

Turning betrayed eyes towards Tom, I can see shock reflecting back at me from his eyes.

"Oh, God," Tom exclaims, horrified. He reaches out, as if to touch my cheek, and I flinch back, looking at him with terrified eyes.

" _Fuck."_

The word is foreign on Tom's tongue. Never before have I ever heard him curse.

"Harry, I'm so sorry," he apologizes. His eyes are locked on the bruise. He's looking at it weirdly, but I can't figure out what he's thinking. I want to tell him that it's okay, want to tell him that we can put this behind us, but I can't. The memory is way too vivid.

He's done it again.

I'm looking at Tom under a new light. I could say that the first time was a mistake, but now? If he's done it again, would this become a regular part of our lives?

Turning around, I run to our room and lock the door, ignoring Tom's shouts from behind me. He follows me there and collapses on the ground, apologizing profusely.

A part of me wants to forgive him. I don't understand why the other part of me doesn't want to. It was a mistake, right? Tom would never intentionally hit me… right?

It's then that I come to a startling realization: I'm _afraid_ of Tom….

The very thought sends shivers of ice cold fear down my back. I clutch my head, repeating in my mind over and over again that I don't fear Tom. Like a mantra, I repeatedly say that I love Tom, that I _can't_ fear the man that I love.

Deep in my heart, I know I'm lying.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Ever since that day, I have stopped talking to Tom. Our days are listless now. No longer do we cuddle on the couch. He doesn't even make love to me anymore. Our days have become meaningless, and all I can feel is numbness.

I'm drowning. My love for Tom is fighting against my sense of self-preservation.

I love Tom.

I'm afraid of Tom.

I need Tom.

Will he hit me again?

The words are running rampant in my head, threatening to drive me crazy, and I decide that I need a crutch if I wish to survive. I get an empty notebook and begin to write, dating each entry and pushing all of my feelings into it. At the end of each session, a small amount of weight is pulled off of me.

Finally, I feel grounded.

Even then, I'm hesitant to be near Tom.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _March 4, 2008_

 _In my nightmares, I see Tom coming to me, his hand raised threateningly. His gaze is filled with malevolence and I'm helpless to stop the shiver that runs through my body. If he can hit me, will he eventually kill me as well? How can you love someone that you hit? Does Tom even love me anymore? Is Tom really like Uncle Vernon? Will I wake up one day, beaten and broken, and without someone to curl up to?_

… _Am I alone again? Didn't you promise me that you weren't Vernon, Tom?_

… _What happened to you?_

 _Missing you,_

 _Harry_

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

During the middle of the first month, Tom cracked down and came to talk to me. We talked it out, and he promised me that he would never do it again. When I reminded him that he had said the same thing last time, he told me that he would completely respect my decision if I decided to leave him.

I couldn't help but forgive him. He had been looking at me with those beautiful crimson eyes, filled with tears of regret. Never before have ever I seen him cry, and it touched my heart to see him do it in my honor.

I hugged him, promising him that I would do my best to bring us back to where we were. It has been a long and tedious process, but we're finally done.

Never before, have I been happier.

Naturally, this has to change.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

During a visit, Hermione finds my journal. Never before have I seen her so mad.

It came with no warning. One minute, she had gone upstairs to go to the bathroom. In the next, she was flying down the staircase, her brown eyes alight with anger.

"You bastard!" she screams, eyes focused intently on Tom. "HOW DARE YOU HIT HARRY?!"

My eyes widen and I can feel Tom stiffen beside me. Across from us, Ron looks up at his girlfriend, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Hermione!" he chastises, shaking his head. Hermione, it seems, has no time for Ron. Instead, she throws the journal at his feet and makes her way towards Tom.

My eyes land on the journal in horror. Ron gets up and reaches down to pick it up, but I quickly duck down and retrieve it. He looks at me in question.

Unfortunately, I don't have time for him. Instead, my eyes are on the witch about to pounce on my boyfriend. Rushing to get her, I just barely manage to hold her back.

"Hermione!" I yell.

"No, Harry!" she screams in return, struggling fiercely in my hold. "You can't justify abuse!"

She's clawing at the air, her eyes still pinned on the shocked man. I know that if I let her go, she will undoubtedly cause him harm.

…Why does that thought excite me?

Tom's eyes meet mine. They're daring. He knows what I'm thinking, knows what I really want to do, and I'm once again reminded of just how _well_ Tom knows me.

Pulling Hermione close, I turn to stare pleadingly at Ron.

"Help me!" I beg. He doesn't need to be told twice. Within the next moment, he's right next to me, his arms wrapped around his enraged lover.

"Calm down," he attempts to sooth her. "Let them explain."

"There is nothing to explain!" Hermione refuses stubbornly. "He _hit_ Harry! That is inexcusable!"

Ron looks at me, and I know for a fact that unless I explain, he's going to let Hermione loose.

"He did hit me," I concede. Ron's hold slackens and I rush to hold Hermione tighter. "But it was a mistake and we're working through it."

"LIAR!" Hermione screeches, turning to glare at me. "You're scared!"

She turns back to Tom.

"This douchebag scares you!" she continues. "Harry, you shouldn't be scared of your partner. Come with us; we'll protect you from the likes of him."

I look at her and _see_ her for all that she is. Hermione is still my loyal friend from elementary school. Just like when we were younger, she wants to protect me, and she's not afraid to hurt someone to do it.

I look at her, then at Tom. I know that no matter what I say, she won't allow me to stay here.

I'm about to say something when I notice that Tom has been mysteriously quiet. Looking at Tom, I see him looking at me rather intensely. There's something new in his gaze, something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Is that excitement…?

Looking at Hermione, I nod hesitantly. When I look back at Tom, the excitement in his eyes only grows.

Hermione doesn't waste a second. She finally relaxes and takes my arm, leading me out of the house without a backward glance at Tom.

For some reason, I feel as if this isn't the end.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

If only I knew how right I was. I had only lived with Hermione for about a year when it happened. One minute, I was on my way home. In the next, I was being pulled into a car and taken away.

It's been hours since then. Fabric covers my eyes and a small gag has been placed in my mouth.

Distantly, I can hear the sound of a metal door opening and closing. The sound of footfalls becomes apparent and I can hear the person come closer and closer to me. After opening one final door, they stop.

I shiver, feeling them staring at my bound form.

"Hello, little one," the person purrs.

…Tom?

My eyes widen behind the blindfold, but the other person doesn't give me any time to process this turn of events. A hand meets my cheek and I scream out loud, the sound muffled by the gag in my mouth.

"Oh, don't cry, precious," Tom coos. "I'm just doing what you asked. Didn't you want me to stay?"

He slaps me repeatedly, and my screams rebound off of the walls. When he's finally satisfied with the large red spot on my face, he pulls back.

"We're going to have so much fun."

My life has become hell.


	144. Drabble 144: RowenaHelga

Title: Wildflower

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Rowena/Helga

Rating: Teen

Note - This is an alternate universe.

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"You love her, don't you?" Salazar asked softly. Rowena turned to glare at him, her icy blue eyes regarding him coldly.

"No," she told him stiffly. "What would make you think that?"

"Well, for starters," Salazar drawled sarcastically, "you stare at her like you want to eat her."

"Shut up!" the bookworm hissed, her gaze boring into the others menacingly. "So, help me, Merlin, if you tell her-"

"Oh, do calm down, will you?" Salazar huffed, rolling his eyes in boredom. "Why would I tell her when you're one of my only friends?"

"Aw, you do have a heart," Rowena taunted, smirking. Salazar sighed but smiled at her fondly.

"Why don't you tell her?" he asked curiously, shifting slightly in his seat. Rowena looked over at Helga longingly, her eyes containing a softness Salazar had never seen from the witch.

"She's like a wildflower," the woman whispered. "Beautiful and untamed. She'd never fall in love with someone like me."

"I don't know about that," Salazar chimed in with a shake of his head. "You may look like you want to eat her, but she looks like she wants to devour you."

The remark earned him a harsh punch to the shoulder.

"Look," he finally told her. "You have two options. On one hand, you could sit here and mourn something you've never gotten. On the other, you could get your sorry ass up and go get your witch."

"Very well said," Rowena told him, an impressed smirk curling along her lips. "Godric must have trained you well."

The bright blush that covered the other's cheeks was answer enough.

"Whatever!" Salazar hissed. "Now go get your women, lover girl."

Rowena stuck out her tongue at him, winking at him teasingly.

"I will," she promised. "And then I'll make sure that we keep you up all night with loud lesbian s-"

"Just go!" Salazar demanded, shooing her away. His cheeks were a dark red. Rowena chuckled and went up to the witch of her dreams, surprised when Helga agreed to go on a date with her.

Throughout it, Salazar eyed the proceedings with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Someone's been a good boy," a familiar voice whispered behind him. Salazar shivered, turning around to gaze into warm green eyes.

"I have," he agreed. "Now, aren't you going to reward me?"

"Oh, yes," Godric purred. "Again, and again, and again…"

"Mhmm, can't wait," Salazar moaned, getting up from his seat and allowing his lover to wrap him within his arms.

"You better make this good," he demanded, his own hands wrapping around Godric's neck. The other man smiled at him, his eyes sparkling at the challenge.

"I will," Godric whispered in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, the muggles are going to hear your screams."

"Tsk, tsk. Promises, promises. Can you live up to them?"

"Believe me," the green-eyed man purred. "I can do that and more."

The groan Salazar let out was long and deep. Rowena looked over from her spot near Helga, her eyes sparkling in delight.

 _'Whipped,'_ she mouthed at him. Salazar simply smirked at her.

 _'If I'm whipped, you're stoned,'_ he mouthed back. Before Rowena could respond, Godric was dragging his eager lover to his chambers, a naughty little grin curling along the edges of his lips.

True to his word, Salazar's pleasured screams rang throughout the land.

* * *

 **Fem-slash Drabbleathon - Rowena/Helga**

 **Quidditch Pitch: "You love her, don't you?"**

 **Convince Me - Rowena/Helga**

 **August Word Count: 563**


	145. Drabble 145: JamesLily

**Destroyed by Love**

* * *

Admiring someone is easy. All you really have to do is adore some kind of distinguishing trait.

 _Loving_ someone; however, is a whole other story. When you love someone, you don't just like their appearance. When you truly feel for them, you don't just like them for their brains. When you truly feel like you can't live a day without them, you don't just like _one_ thing.

When you love someone, you love _everything_. To James, this was a very hard lesson he had to learn. At first, he had admired all of the girls in his class. He had liked their looks, their lack of modesty… He didn't like them for _them_ , though.

With Lily, it was different. He had _loved_ her flaming red hair and bright green eyes, had _loved_ just how rapidly she could think on her feet, had _loved_ how many times she had stood up to him.

Lily was a wildflower; someone who wouldn't just settle down for anyone. James _needed_ someone like that. He _needed_ her for her intellect, _needed_ her for everything she was.

Unlike all of the girls in his classes, he could honestly say he _loved_ her.

Naturally, it was that same love that tore him apart.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Tiredly, James walks down the corridors, his eyes drooping slightly in exhaustion. Quidditch practice had been dreadfully brutal today, and all he wanted was to have a hot shower.

Passing by several classrooms, he paused, his eyes going wide when he heard a rather loud and breathy moan.

" _Mhmm,"_ someone breathed, the sound of something creaking repeatedly echoing throughout the abandoned corridor. " _Severus…"_

James gasps, his hand flying to his mouth in an effort to quell the startled noise that threatens to escape.

He knows that voice. Hell, he _loves_ that voice. It couldn't be her, though… Right?

" _Harder…"_

Slowly, James approaches the door that the noises seem to originate from, his heart beating rapidly in his throat. It can't. It just _can't_!

Before he can talk himself out of it, James opens the door, startling the two participants inside. Immediately, he's met with two pairs of eyes. One is angry – their onyx depths twinkling in barely restrained anger. The other is fearful – their pools of green frozen over in terror.

"James!"

Without a second thought, James runs, ignoring the feminine voice that loudly calls his name.

That wasn't Lily! It couldn't have been!

 _But it was,_ his mind helpfully supplies. Shaking his head, James runs faster, only slowing down when he reaches his dorm.

The other Marauders look at him, shocked, but the Gryffindor doesn't hesitate to jump into his bed and pull the curtains shut.

That night, he breaks down, his whole entire world seeming to fall apart. In his mind's eye, he can see Lily – can see her arch into the other's touch, can see her emerald eyes blown wide in both lust and terror.

Never before has James Potter lost himself so badly. What's to blame, you wonder?

 _Love…_

* * *

 _o-O-o_

* * *

"Alright, Prongs," Sirius sighs, walking over to pull James' curtains open harshly. He takes one look at the boy huddled beneath the covers and rolls his eyes, sitting down on the other boy's bed. "Spill it."

Slowly, James' head peaks out from under the covers, his hair an utter mess as he stares up at Sirius with large hazel eyes.

"What are you talking about, Padfoot?" he asks shakily. Sirius looks at his friend with concern, reaching out one hand to ruffle James' hair fondly.

"You, James," he tells him. "Ever since last weekend, you've been hiding beneath your covers."

"Sirius, I-"

"Don't you dare lie to me!" Sirius demands, his gray eyes flashing in irritation. James' looks away guiltily. That had been exactly what he was going to do.

"Look," he eventually says. "I've finally decided to give up on Evans."

"What did I say?" Sirius asks dangerously. "That's not everything."

"Yeah, but it's not lying either," James says cheekily, burying his head under the covers.

"Prongs, don't do this," Sirius begs, reaching out to pull the covers away. "We're best friends, right? Tell me the truth."

Silence rang throughout the room, the only sound being that of the boys' breathing. Finally, when Sirius was about to storm off, James spoke.

"Padfoot… Is there something wrong with me?"

Sirius looks at him as if he were crazy, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"You," he begins. Eyes flashing in rage, Sirius lashes out, his fist harshly connecting with James' head. "You're a fool!"

"Ow!" the other boy screeches, glaring at Padfoot. "That hurt, Sirius!"

"Good!" the animagus retorts fiercely. "Maybe that will make your brain work!"

"It does w-"

"I will say this only once, so listen up Potter!" Sirius barks, eyes glinting in rage. "There is nothing wrong with you, and if Evans made you think otherwise, I'll beat her ass myself!"

James is quiet as he stares at Sirius. The other's words sink in and a slow smile curls along the edges of his lips.

"Careful, Siri," he finally says. "Saying something like that makes me think you've fallen for me."

Sirius snorts, slapping James lightly on the shoulder.

"You wish you could get someone as sexy as me to fall for you."

Prongs smiles, but doesn't say anything. They sit there, a light air between them, before Sirius finally shifts to lay down next to James.

"We're cool, right?" he asks hesitantly. James nods, turning to look the other in the eye.

"Definitely."

As the two lay there, each lost within their own thoughts, James finally realizes something important. While love destroyed him, friendship saved him.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch League - "Is there something wrong with me?"**

 **Drabble Club - Word - Open**

 **Canon Pairings - James X Lily**

 **Word Count: 943**


	146. Drabble 146: GodricSalazar

**Kiss Me Under the Moonlight**

* * *

Above them, the sky was a dark blue. The moon shined ominously in the sky, its ethereal glow only highlighting the innocent aura that lingered throughout the forest. Shrouded by hundreds of plants, Godric and Salazar were in the very depths of the Forbidden Forest. They sat on the ground, Godric's chest pressing against Salazar's back. Together, they allowed themselves to relax, their sins seeming to be washed away by the pure atmosphere.

Finally, they were cleansed. For a while, anyway.

"Do you think they'll ever forgive me?" Salazar asked softly. Godric pressed a kiss to the other's cheek, his arms tightening around the teen.

"They will," he told him. Salazar finally turned to look at him, a sigh escaping.

"You don't have to lie to me," he said, smiling sadly at his lover.

"I'm not," Godric promised with a shake of his head. "We all have our own opinions. They can't hate you because yours was different."

"It's not just ' _different_ '," Salazar remarked, leaning his head back until it lightly hit Godric's shoulder. He peered up at the man, his eyes shining in the moonlight. "It's otherworldly."

"If you feel bad about it, why don't you see things their way?" Godric proposed.

"The Muggleborns are bad, Godric," Salazar said for what felt like the thousandth time. "Just like their ancestors, they'll try to dest-"

"Sal," Godric interrupted sternly. "Don't compares these kids to the muggles from your past."

The other man glared.

"It's true," he retorted stubbornly. "Just like them, they'll keep us in captivity, and try to dissect us. To them, we're freaks, Godric! We have to protect our race!"

"Shh," Godric whispered softly, pulling Salazar even more firmly against his chest. "You love me, don't you?"

"That goes without saying," Salazar said, no hesitation to be found.

"In that case, _believe_ in me. They are kids, Salazar. Just like you had been, they haven't been corrupted by others. Don't try to judge them like you were judged."

Guilt seizing him, Salazar looked away. He didn't know what to say! His whole entire childhood had consisted of him being poked and prodded at by Muggles. How was he to trust their descendants?! Then again, Godric had a point. These _were_ children. Just like him, they had no idea about the world of magic. This could be their chance to find themselves!

Still… What if they tried to ruin everything they had tried to create?

Sighing, Salazar startled when he felt Godric's cool breath hit his ear, his lover gently biting the lobe.

"Trust me, Salazar," the other man whispered, delighting in the small shiver his lover let out. "Everything will be fine. We just need to trust them."

Salazar couldn't say anything. Tears burned in his eyes as images of what he went through popped into his mind's vision. His lover seemed to understand, though. At once, Godric let him go, his hands reaching down to pick him up and turn him around. Immediately, he was settled on his lover's lap, his whole entire body seized in a hug.

"It's okay, love," Godric whispered soothingly. "They won't hurt you anymore."

Salazar finally let the tears fall, hugging Godric fiercely in return.

"I love you," he whispered when the tears finally began to slow down. Godric pulled back and smiled, his hand coming to gently wipe away a stray tear.

"I love you too," he declared, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Salazar's slightly wet cheek. "Perhaps, more than you'll ever know."

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Locked Character Challenge - Godric Gryffindor - 7. Angst**

 **Quidditch Pitch - (Location) Forbidden Forest**

 **Word Count: 589**


	147. Drabble 147: VernonPetunia

**Perfect Life**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Everything in Vernon's life had to be perfect.

All his life, he had strived to have the best job available, to have the best wife, and the best son. He wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, and that's why he had been so ecstatic when he had met Petunia Evans.

Unlike all of the other girls he knew, Petunia was well groomed. She knew how to act like a respectable lady without seeming like a prude. While not the prettiest, Petunia made up for it with her mannerisms. She was perfect – had been everything Vernon wanted in life.

She had provided him with love, provided him with a _family_. Even now, Vernon loved his son, Dudley Dursley, to death. The boy was his only child – his pride and joy when it came to life.

To Vernon, Petunia and Dudley were all he needed to continue on living his perfect life. Naturally, all good things must come to an end.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

As it turned out, his lovely wife had a sister. The girl turned out to be a freak, if Vernon had ever heard of one. She was crude and unladylike. According to Petunia, she was constantly talking about a world hidden from all else. While Vernon didn't know the specifics, he knew that this was a threat to his perfect life.

Lily Evans was an enigma – one that couldn't be trusted.

At once, he told Petunia that no, she couldn't see her sister anymore. While Petunia had protested heavily and had even cried, he had softly explained to her that Lily was a threat to the lives they lived. While it took a while, Petunia slowly came around. Steadily, she ceased contact with her sister. Within a year, all communication had been lost between the sisters.

In the comfort of his home, Vernon Dursley smiled darkly.

His perfect life was safe, all thanks to him. It would do good for it to continue this way.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"What is this?" Vernon asked, his voice devoid of emotion. He stared ahead, his whole entire body trembling as he stared at the baby clutched in his wife's arms. "You know what? Don't tell me."

"Vernon," Petunia hastened to say. "I found him on the porch."

At once, Vernon relaxed, a large sigh of relief leaving his lungs.

"In that case, head to the car. We'll take him to an orphan-"

"Vernon," Petunia cut in sharply. "It's _Lily's_ baby."

At once, the man paused, his eyes looking at the baby in a whole new light. Contempt flickered in his gaze and he marched towards the door, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter-top as he made his way there.

"All the more reason to give the freak away!"

"No, Vernon!" Petunia yelled, tears burning from behind her eyes. "Lily's dead. S-she died! All because of that pale freak of a wizard!"

She broke down crying, sobs escaping.

Deep inside Vernon, he might have felt a little bit of sympathy for the woman. After all, Petunia had always loved Lily. No matter what she said, his wife still loved her. However, Lily was a freak. For that reason, Vernon couldn't feel any sympathy. The woman was dead because she deserved to be. This baby was no exception.

"Pet," he cooed softly. Petunia looked up, tears streaming from her eyes. "We have to give the baby up. He'll ruin our perfect liv-"

"Who gives a damn about that?!" Petunia screeched. "This is my sister's _baby!_ The last link I have to her! You can't expect me to-"

 _Crack._

The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed around the room, and Petunia stared up at her husband in horror. Her cheek turned a dark shade of red, the shape of a hand-print beginning to become apparent.

"Do not challenge me!" Vernon roared, his eyes flashing with barely restrained rage. Petunia nodded slowly, her eyes wide with fear. "We're taking the baby away, and that's that."

Petunia nodded absently and stood up, heading to his car slowly. Together, they went to the orphanage and gave the baby up, Petunia in a daze the whole entire time.

By the end of the night, Vernon lay in bed, a satisfied grin curling along the edges of his lips.

Again, he had protected his family. No one would get in the way of his perfect life. Not even Petunia.

* * *

 **Written For:**

 **Quidditch Pitch: "Do not challenge me!"**

 **Locked Characters Challenge - Vernon Dursley - 13. "Don't tell me."**

 **Canon Challenge - Vernon Dursley/Petunia Dursley**

 **Word Count: 731**


	148. Drabble 148: RowenaHelga

**Fireworks**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

" _We are all like fireworks. We climb, shine, and always go our separate ways and become further apart. But even if that time comes, let's not disappear like a firework and continue to shine forever."_

 _~Toshiro Hitsugaya, Bleach_

* * *

Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the proud founders of Hogwarts, stood inside of her chambers, her piercing blue eyes pinned on her friend.

"What are you trying to get at, Sal?" she questioned, her voice as cold as ice. Salazar merely sighed, his own haunting gaze traveling to her form.

"You're in love with her," he elaborated. His tone was flat as if he knew that there was no way she could deny his claim. Rowena could feel her eyebrow twitch in irritation.

"I don't," she told him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I promised Helga that I'd help her with her lesson plans."

"Her lesson plans, huh?" Salazar asked, getting up from his seat. Walking towards her, he gently cupped her cheek and forced her to look into his eyes.

"Don't hurt yourself, alright?" he told her. Rowena sighed, shaking her head.

"I don't have time for your games, Salazar. I don't love Helga, and that's that."

She spun on her heel and headed to the door, not once looking back. However, when she was about to close it, she paused at the whisper that followed her declaration.

"You're right, Rowena. You don't love her. You _need_ her."

Closing the door, she slumped against it, her blue eyes filling with tears.

" _Fuck._ "

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Thanks for the help, Row," Helga said, smiling. "Thanks to you, I finished all of my plans early."

"Haha, it was no problem," Rowena chuckled, getting up for her chair and stretching. "I have to go do my own plans, so I'll see you later, okay?"

Nodding, Helga stood up from her own seat and hugged her best friend, a small smile playing along her lips.

"Be safe," she whispered, pulling back. However, when she was about to completely let go of the other woman, she caught sight of her abnormally blue eyes. She paused, feeling as Rowena was looking into the very depths of her soul. A small blush began to paint her cheeks, but she couldn't look away. She was mesmerized.

"Helga?" Rowena asked in confusion, her eyebrows slightly narrowed. Startled, Helga hastily pulled away, her blush darkening.

"I'll see you later, then," she said hurriedly, hoping that Rowena didn't catch her slip up. The other woman looked at her for a moment longer before nodding hesitantly, walking towards the door.

"See you," she said, waving. With that, she walked out, only sparing Helga one more glance.

Now alone, Helga shook her head in frustration.

"No! Idiot, idiot, idiot!" she whispered furiously, pulling at her hair absently. Slowly, she slid to the floor, just staring absently at the green carpet that covered it.

"What do I do now…?" she asked herself.

No answer came.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Brilliant lights flashed from every directly, each spell barreling at breakneck speed at both Helga and Rowena. The two dueled expertly side by side, their eyes catching sight of each bright spell that was thrown their way. Their hands moved quickly, their mouths moving silently as they spoke incantation after incantation.

Their enemies quickly fell to the floor, the light in their eyes dying out as their life-force dwindled. Very concentrated on the battle, the two neglected to see the spell that was barreling towards Helga until it was too late. With a yelp, the witch fell to the floor, scream upon scream being ripped from her throat as the Cruciatus curse kept her within its painful hold.

At that moment, Rowena couldn't have kept the rage inside of her bottled up even if she tried. Her eyes furiously shot towards the man who cast the spell, their depths practically spitting fire.

" _Caerulus Ignis_!" she snarled.

Immediately, twin blue flames shot out of her wand, heading straight for the geezer that dared to hit Rowena's friend. The man screamed, his whole entire expression morphing into one of extreme pain as he hit the flames fruitlessly.

Slowly, he fell to the ground, the flames enveloping him. They crawled up his form slowly, forcing scream after pitiful scream from his throat. Rowena watched the proceedings for a moment before rushing to her friend. Because of her charm, the curse that the man had cast on her had been broken.

Helga panted, trembling within her hold. Rowena couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes. Helga could have been killed while she was under the torture curse. All it would have taken was a well-aimed killing curse.

"I'm sorry," she found herself whispering repeatedly. "This shouldn't have happened! I-"

"Rowena," Helga panted out, her eyes trailing up to meet to her friend's. "Shut up and kiss me."

The other woman looked at her, shock evident in every line of her face, but did exactly as asked when Helga glared at her. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, the slightly metallic taste of blood coating it. When they pulled back, they smiled.

"Thanks for taking my pain away," Helga whispered, her eyes twinkling in mirth. Rowena couldn't help but chuckle despite the situation, rolling her eyes fondly.

"Oh, shut up," she told the other girl. Helga opened her mouth to say something but squeaked when Rowen picked her up bridal style.

"Come on," the blue-eyed witch told her. "We need to get you back to the castle."

"I can walk myself," Helga protested. One look at Rowena's feisty glare had her shutting up, though.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Rowena grinned.

"Anytime."

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Charms Owl - Part 1 - Blue Bell Flame Charm - Write a story featuring this charm helping someone/something. Extra Prompt: (Emotion) Happiness. *The extra prompt was shown rather than said.**

 **August Word Count: 975**


	149. Drabble 149: GodricSalazar

**Consumed**

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

When I was younger, I used to think that people were simple. I actually believed that people could be classified as good or bad by one action alone. For many years, I lived in blissful ignorance.

Then, I met _him_.

Things could never go back to the way they were.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

"Godric," Helga calls, her eyes soft. "We have to help him."

"That's impossible, Helga," I tell her, shaking my head. "If we do, we risk exposure."

"We risk exposure every day, Godric," Rowena coldly points out from her spot near the door. Her eyes are hard, her whole entire stance radiating defiance.

"Look," she sighs. "This kid is a wizard – we've _seen_ him use magic! We can't possibly leave him here."

"This may be for the best!" I yell. "What if he likes living with his family? Could you possibly live with taking him away from the only family he's ever known?"

"That's the thing," Helga says, taking a step towards me. Her eyes are ferocious, a storm of rage and fury building within their depths. "They're hurting him, Godric. We need to save him."

"No," I whisper, all the fight draining out of my body. Helga takes another step towards me, her arms coming to wrap around my frame.

"Yes, Godric," she mumbles into my ear. "They're hurting him, and it's our job to save him. He's one of us, 'Ric. We can't leave him."

I stare at her, seeing a powerful sort of determination lingering within her gaze. Turning towards Rowena, I see the very same emotion running rampant through her icy orbs. I know for a fact that they will do this with or without my permission.

Sighing, I stand up and walk to the door. Just as I'm about to leave, I turn, smirking at them.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask them. "There's a kid that needs our help."

The bright grins that cover their faces make me feel lighter on the inside.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

Peering down, guilt slowly envelops my heart. This boy – this _kid_ has been forced to endure the cruelty of another. His whole entire life, he's never known happiness – has never known love.

I can't even fathom it.

However, before my very eyes, the kid rises shakily to his feet. He walks towards me, peering at me with old and wizened eyes.

"Excuse me," he whispers coldly. With his head held high, he brushes past me, walking towards the doors of the house. Before I can even attempt to call him back, he's gone, the only hint of his presence being the sudden breeze that comes through. With it, comes the sweet smell of strawberries.

After a while, it fades. Even then, I don't leave.

The cold depths of gray eyes still haunt me, forcing me to stay in my spot.

" _Excuse me…"_

Even now, I can recall the hidden plead in his eyes. He wants help – _needs_ it even, but he refuses it. How could he want to leave, when he so obviously wants to stay?

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

"What are you doing here?" the boy from before asks me. I grin, ignoring the small twitch of his eyebrows.

"Checking on you, of course," I tell him. "You know that it's rude to leave your saviors without a thank you, right?"

"Saviors?" he asks, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "Thank you for helping me out back there, but let's get one thing straight. I _don't_ get saved by anyone, much less some guy decked out in red."

"Wow, someone's awfully defensive," I remark, ignoring the rest of his statement. I won't play this little game of his. Unlike everyone else in his life, I won't react to him negatively.

"Not defensive," he corrects, rolling his eyes. "Truthful."

Shaking my head, I look him straight in the eye.

"Salazar," I say, my voice unusually serious. "My friends and I want to help you. I need you to put away your stupid pride for a second and just accept it."

"Stupid pride?" he questions, glaring at me. "Unlike certain prats, I don't need a thing like pride to sustain me. I merely know my own worth."

"Understood," I tell him, just wanting to get this conversation over with. We were running around in circles. All I need to do is get him back to the house. That way, Rowena and Helga can explain our plans and Salazar will hopefully join us.

"Now, will you please just come with me?"

He stares at me warily, his eyes staring deeply into my own. Finally, after a minute goes by, he sighs, visibly deflating.

"Fine," he snarls. "You better not make me regret this."

"I would never dream of it," I assure him, laughing. I don't know if I imagined it, but I can almost swear that his lips twitched upwards.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

"So, let me get this straight," Salazar says, one eyebrow raised. "You plan on creating a magical school for wizards?"

"Yes," Helga says, nodding.

"And you want me – a teenager who has never really dabbled in magic – to be a founder?"

"Correct," Rowena chimes in.

"Are you crazy?" the teen asks bluntly, crossing his arms.

"Salazar," I begin. "You may be younger than all of us, but you have potential. We believe that you'll only flourish away from your father's influence. Besides, we can teach you ourselves. It's not like we have to build the school tomorrow. We can take our time."

"You're serious about this?" he questions. We all nod, staring at him with hope.

"Please, Salazar?" Helga asks, taking a step towards him. Tenderly, she wraps him in her arms. "Your real family might not have been there for you, but we will. Won't you be a part of our family?"

Salazar stares at us, his gaze indecisive. He's struggling – that much is obvious. Leaning forward, I gently ruffle his hair.

"Come on," I tell him, laughing. "Would you really leave me to run a school without you? Didn't you tell me that I was 'an idiotic prat that couldn't possibly get by without the supervision of others' during our walk here?"

Salazar, much to our surprise, smiles. His whole entire face brightens, a small chuckle ripping itself from his throat.

"Yeah," he says. "I definitely can't leave you on your own. Count me in."

I can't even focus on the scream of happiness Helga releases. All I can see is the mirth that dances in Salazar's eyes.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

The next day, when passing by Salazar's room, I pause upon hearing a voice come from inside.

"What should I do?" the person asks themselves. It's Salazar – the voice is too familiar to not be. "He's not going to stop – not going to let me just _be_."

"Why can't he leave me alone, for once? Even when he's dead, the bastard has to annoy me!"

I know that I shouldn't be doing this, but I take a step towards the room. I lean on the door, pressing my ear to the wood.

"I won't be able to learn anything if I can't sleep," Salazar continues. "This is pathetic. He's dead. He can't do shit to me."

I hear creaking and rustling come from inside. I think the boy just climbed into bed.

Minutes pass by in silence. Then, out of nowhere, I hear a curse come from inside. Not able to take it any longer, I open up the door.

Salazar lays on the bed, his hands covering his face. When the door opens; however, he looks up, his gray eyes coming to rest on my form.

"What the hell do you want?" he asks me harshly. I ignore his question and move towards him, sitting on his bed.

"Do you mind if I stay here?" I ask instead. He shakes his head at me.

"No," he quickly denies.

"This is my house," I remind him. "I asked only out of courtesy."

Going to lay down, I turn to the side. His eyes stay locked on my form for a while, but he eventually sighs.

"Whatever," he whispers. Turning on his back, he lets silence overtake the room. However, when I'm on the verge of actually falling asleep, he whispers, "Thank you."

I smile.

Despite his coldness, Salazar is actually quite kind.

* * *

 **AN: Written for Assignment 4 of Myths and Legends. The task was to write about a damsel in distress. Naturally, I had to include a little... twist. To be more specific: A character has discovered a damsel is in distress and goes out to rescue them. Unfortunately for Godric, Salazar is not just any damsel. Also, this is an Alternate Reality where Salazar was abused as a child and never really got to dabble in magic.**

 **Word Count: 1,381**


	150. Drabble 150: PansyHermione

Title: The End of Time

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Hermione Granger

Rating: Teen

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Hermione stared at the scene before her in shock, her whole entire body going still as her eyes took in her lover's battered form.

Pansy laid on the ground, her normally healthy and straight hair reduced to a thick and dry mess. Her mesmerizing hazel eyes were closed, the worry lines that had previously covered her forehead now gone. Her black top and jeans were in tatters, the only remnants being stray scraps.

Taking a step forward, Hermione dropped to the floor, her hand reaching out to touch her beloved. Cold. Pansy's skin was cold…

Hermione trembled, her whole entire world seeming to shatter around her. Pansy was dead. Her lover, her enemy, her best friend… Well and truly gone.

Why; why did she have to die? Why did Pansy have to perish in the war? Sure, she wasn't the best person, but Hermione loved her for that. Pansy had always known of her own flaws – she knew that she could be a downright nasty bitch at times, but she always made the effort to apologize without saying anything.

Even now, Hermione could fondly recall the time when they had gotten into a huge fight. Pansy, wanting to make things right, had left a beautiful bracelet on top of Hermione's pillow, a letter beside it. The letter apologized on her behalf and even expressed just how much Pansy really loved Hermione no matter what she said.

Hermione had loved that letter. Even now, she could remember the adoration she felt towards her partner when she put the letter inside a secret compartment of her trunk. That way, she could keep it with her at all times.

Now, though…? Sure, she still had the letter, but what would be the point of it when she didn't have Pansy?

Sob after sob escaped her throat, and Hermione clutched her beloved to her tightly.

Pansy was dead… and with her, a piece of Hermione had died as well.

* * *

 **Fem-slash Drabbleathon - Pansy/Hermione**

 **August Word Count: 326**


	151. Drabble 151: RemusSirius

Title: Controller

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Sirius, don't do this," Dolores begged pleadingly, her eyes pinned on the man before her. Sirius' wand was pointed directly at her, benevolence shining in his wicked gray eyes.

"Don't you understand?" Padfoot asked her, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I'm not in control of my body anymore. He owns me."

"Who are you talking about?" Dolores questioned, beyond frustrated. Sirius' eyes flashed at her tone and he took a threatening step forward.

"He's called by many names," he told her. "Moony, mutt, dog, beast, _monster_ , but do you know what his real name is?"

He looks at her, his gaze curious. However, when Dolores shakes her head, he sighs. Taking several steps forward, he immobilizes her with a wave of his wand. He approaches her, his gray eyes lighting up with a hazy sort of euphoria.

"Remus Lupin is my master."

He watched as she slumped forward, all her hope seeming to vanish in the flash of the eye. She knew as well as he did that there was no chance of escape for her. It was common knowledge that the only one who could truly tame Sirius Black was Remus Lupin, and for her, a weak witch, to dare talk bad about his friend…

Well, to put it simply, she was toast.

"You know," Sirius breathed. "I was going to put you under Crucio and relish in your screams, but I've thought about something so much better."

Roughly, he grasped her chin, pulling her face to his until it was mere inches away.

"I'm going to bring you so much pain that you're going to depend on it to survive. I'm going to torture you until that's the only thing that you can think of. Then, when you're on the verge of self-destructing, I'm going to turn you into the thing you hate most and kill you right on the spot; slowly and painfully dousing you with wolfsbane and silver… Won't that be lovely, Dolores?"

Before she could answer, Sirius waved his wand, causing a horrendous sensation to bubble within her. Needles – hundreds and thousands of needles – were being pushed into her skin slowly only to be pulled out quickly. Over and over again. Faster and faster. Slower then faster...

It was a never ending cycle. The pain – oh Merlin, the pain. Again, again, again, again, aga-

Unknown to her, Sirius watched her writhe, a shark-like grin on his face. Mania shined within his eyes.

"Are you done, pet?" a voice asked from behind them. Sirius turned, a bright smile curling along his lips when he saw his master. He didn't hesitate to get up from the writhing mess of a woman and make his way towards the other.

"For now," he told her. "Let's take her to the dungeon."

Remus Lupin smiled at him, his canines gleaming wickedly in the moonlight.

"Anything for you," he cooed.

Together, they made their way back to Grimmauld Place, Dolores' body floating behind them.

* * *

 **200 Characters in 200 Days - Sirius Black**

 **August Word Count: 501**


	152. Drabble 152: RegulusSirius

Title: Soulmates

Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling

Pairing: Regulus Black/Sirius Black

Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.

Note - This is one of two stories I plan on gifting Scarlet Hibiscus. Happy Belated birthday, Scarlet-chan! Consider this one of my birthday licks. 3

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _A seemingly endless pool of darkness. It's black and inky tendrils reaching out, embracing everything in sight. I am a mere ghost; something that it pays no mind but consumes all the same. Like all of the others, I'm pulled into its black depths, never to be seen again._

 _Amidst a cold and dark world, he's there. His hand reaches out to me, his pinky carefully wrapped in a crimson string. The string glows a bright red hue, illuminating the area around me. Hope blooms in my chest and I reach out, desperately trying to find some sense of normalcy in a world filled with abnormal activity._

 _The hand moves, the bearer moving away. I follow it, my whole world on the verge of collapsing. I have to follow them, have to get to that string…_

 _I'm inches away from it. Almost there…!_

 _My hand connects with it and a bright green glow obliterates the darkness. I'm blinded by it. By the time it dies down, the string is gone._

 _The tendrils reach up and wrap around me, pulling me down into their depths._

 _I'm lost…_

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Slowly, my eyes flutter open.

Today is the day.

Mentally, I'm prepared. Long ago, my parents had explained what occurs on your sixteenth birthday, and I've long since accepted it. A minute before midnight, a silvery hue will come from the window, illuminating my room. As the seconds go by, the light will become brighter and brighter until it's almost blinding. Then, when the clock strikes midnight, the hue will disappear. In its place, a string the color of blood will appear around my finger, leading to the one I'm destined to be with for all of eternity.

I have no choice in the matter; have no decision. Once my string becomes apparent, I can't change the person on the other end of it. I'll be well and truly trapped…

Absently, I can feel a slight sense of bitterness well within me. I don't truly want this. The thought of being tied down with no choice of escape scares me. To make matters worse, Regulus, my sweet and darling brother, will one day get his string as well. Just like me, he will have no choice on who he marries.

What if he gets tied to a wife beater? What if he gets tied to someone who is simply no good? The very thought of it pains me. I love my brother, perhaps more than is acceptable, really.

I can't allow someone to harm him, yet what am I to do? How could I ever go against the fates?

Lacing my hands together, I admire the snow white skin. Regulus has always told me that it was beautiful and reminded him of snow. For that reason, I've always taken care of it.

Knowing that something is going to mar what he's deemed as beautiful makes me uneasy. In the end, would I be left with any reminder of him?

Closing my eyes, I recline against my bed.

I can't allow this; can't allow the fates to even think that us going our separate ways is acceptable. Regulus is the other part of me, and I'd be damned if they tried to change that. Now… What should I do first…?

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

It's time.

Just as predicted, a bright silver hue slowly inches through the window, illuminating my surroundings. Its ethereal glow mesmerizes me and I breathe in through my nose, slowly preparing myself for what was to come.

Seconds go by and the light slowly dies down. My breath held, I look down, gasping when I see the blood red string that laces itself around my skin.

It's beautiful.

I don't know what compels me to do it, but I stand up. I leave the room, following the glowing string until I reach my brother's room. Confusion sets in and I open the door timidly.

At once, I pause, my mouth opens in a silent scream. My string runs through the room and connects to the string on my brother's small pinky.

Even I wince at how loud my resounding scream is.

* * *

 **To be continued.**

* * *

 **200 Characters in 200 Days - Sirius Black**

 **August Word Count: 691**

 **Assignment 4 - Ancient Runes - Write about something irreversible. *Note - To be honest, I was going to continue, but I felt that all of it was rather forced. Thus, I decided to leave it open ended. In my opinion, it works. What happens next is up to your interpretation. Do Regulus and Sirius get together? Do they face any problems? What does Walburga have to say about this? Does Regulus want Sirius at all? That, my dears, is up to you to decide. My extra prompt was wariness, by the way.**


	153. Drabble 153: NickGrieve

**Deadly Mistakes, Horrible Aches**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Back then, I had it all.

Valued for my fierce loyalty and bravery, King Henry II knighted me. I have always been a part of something, have always been needed. Now, though? Now, everyone's thrown me away.

I regret it, regret helping that _harlot_ , but what's done is done. I can't go back to the past. No, all I can do is live with the consequences of my actions.

This is my story, and I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Standing in front of a mirror, I let out an appreciative whistle. I look particularly dashing in my green doublet and breeches. My cloak, which is a dark green, flows fluidly behind me. My green tights hug my legs especially well, if I do say so myself.

Grinning slightly, I walk towards my bed. On top of it lays my pride and joy. Having been polished and recently sharpened, my sword is a beautiful trinket that awaits my appraising gaze. The hilt is adorned with King Henry's family crest, showing off my high status in his court.

I have worked hard to get where I am today, and I know that my days will only get better.

Taking my sword in hand, I let my eyes sweep the room one final time. Satisfied with the knowledge that I have everything, I head out into the darkness of the streets.

It is time to do my duty.

Long live the King.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

The stars shine brilliantly above, illuminating the dark sky above me. Walking on the outskirts of the Royal Castle, I keep my ears open for any signs of turmoil. There are none, so I continue my peaceful stroll.

"Sir Nicholas," a voice calls from behind me. Turning, I smile upon seeing Lady Grieve walking towards me. Her long blonde hair is held up in a bun, two silky locks framing her face nicely. She wears a dark blue dress, the color only serving to highlight the paleness of her skin. She looks mesmerizing.

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service, M'lady," I introduce. While I find it tedious to introduce myself every time I have an audience with someone, I shall remain loyal to the royal codes.

"I need a favor, if you'd be so kind," she tells me. I nod at her, silently willing her to continue.

"Using your magic, can you fix my teeth?"

I stare at her, dumbfounded, as she leans in closer, opening her mouth wide. I can't help but gasp in horror, my hand flying to my mouth. Lady Grieve nods her head, a small tear making its way down her cheek.

"I don't think I can help you, Milady," I croak. She looks at me, scorn in her gaze. The sudden change makes my head spin.

"Sir Nicholas, I am not the kind of woman that begs. If you would be so cruel as to deny a helpless woman, then shame on you. You wear your crest in shame."

I feel as if she has punched me in the gut. I clench my stomach, already feeling the phantom pain dancing along my abdomen.

"Lady Grieve, I mean no ill will, but isn't there someone more versed than me in spell casting?" I ask her pleadingly.

"No," she whispers, determination flaring up within her blue eyes. "It has to be you."

"Do you truly want this done?" I question, on the verge of hysteria. "There is always a risk that the spell will go wrong."

"Sir Nicholas… I need this. You don't understand what it's like to be a woman of ill appearance. Please, if you have any morals, you will help me."

I stare at her, wanting desperately to say no, but knowing that I need to say yes.

"Alas, a damsel in distress has always been my weakness," I confide, sighing in defeat. Lady Grieve smiles, the expression reminiscent of the light of a thousand suns. She leans forward and hugs me.

"Don't move," I warn her, pulling away and drawing my wand. She nods at me firmly, a slight glint of confusion and fear in her eyes. Gently, I whisper the spell, watching with growing horror as large tusks grow in her mouth.

I flinch, my eyes wide. Lady Grieve takes this as an affirmation that I'm done. Reverently, she raises a hand mirror to her face and screams, her eyes wide with horror and fury.

"What did you do?!" she screeches.

I stutter out a reply, desperately trying to tell her that I will fix it, but I have no time. Immediately, the other knights come in order to find out the cause of the commotion. They take one look at her new appendages and look at me, their eyes wide upon seeing my drawn wand.

Without a second thought, they reach out for me, but I won't allow it. I run, my breathing erratic as they follow me. I don't make it far. I'm seized by two long arms, and soon my body is being dragged towards the dungeons.

"Please!" I yell out desperately. "I can fix it!"

No one pays any attention to my pleas.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, you have been accused of attempted murder. You have hereby been deemed guilty and have been sentenced to death."

The words are a dull echo in my ears. All I can focus on is the face of Lady Grieve as she stands beside King Henry, a black veil covering her mouth from view.

The scorn in her eyes taunts me, and I can't look away. A smirk slowly curls along the edges of her lips, the glint in her eyes shining brighter. Within me, it's as if a key is suddenly turned. Memories of the past flow through me, forcing me to witness the horrors that lie within.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

" _Nicholas," my mother calls. Coming down the stairs of our manor, I walk into the kitchen, surprised when I see two strangers standing inside. "This is Lady Elizabeth and her daughter, Lady Grieve."_

" _It's nice to meet you," I say, staring at the two intruders. Lady Elizabeth is a tall woman with long blonde locks that flow down her back. Her blue eyes sparkle under the artificial lighting, illuminating her entire face. She's entrancing. Lady Grieve, on the other hand, has shoulder-length blonde hair. Her eyes are a dark blue. In contrast to her mother's magnificent eyes, hers lack emotion—something that leaves much to be desired._

" _Your eyes," I whisper absently, reaching out to gently caress the daughter's young face. A blush creeps up her chin, but I pay it no mind. "Is there something wrong with them?"_

 _At once, the atmosphere in the room changes. My mother calls out my name sharply, and Lady Elizabeth grasps her daughter's elbow protectively._

 _Lady Grieve lets out an indignant shriek, her hands flying up to her face. She hits my hand angrily, glaring at me all the while._

" _I'll have you know that my eyes are beautiful, thank you very much," she growls. I snort, a small laugh bubbling out of my throat._

" _Okay," I tell her, rolling my eyes. Heading to the door, I walk out, not realizing that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life._

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

The cheers of the crowd suddenly grow louder and I can hear the loud swoosh of metal sailing through the air.

Betrayal flows through me, its bitter tang filling my mouth and burning through my veins.

Lady Grieve doesn't look away.

The axe connects with my throat. I scream, the sound loud in the sudden silence. Everyone stares at my body in awe, my throat bleeding slightly from the cut. King Henry moves his hand, and the cuts come again and again.

My haunting screams ring throughout the arena, and the blood pours faster.

Again, again, again, again, again, again, again…

By the time I'm dead, I've been hit 45 times. Even then, my head didn't fully sever.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

On October 31st, my eyes open.

On that day, I became a changed man. My kindness had scorned me, forcing me to endure their fiery flames of hell. In the brief time I had known her, Lady Grieve had been someone I reluctantly respected.

Now, though?

Now, I wanted revenge.

Lady Grieve wouldn't know what hit her.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Author's Note: This was written for Round 10 of Quidditch League. My name is Firediva0 and I'm the Keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps. My prompt was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.**

 **Other Prompts:**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank**

 **August Word Count - 1,387**


	154. Drabble 154: RemusSirius

**Title: Whispers in the Dark**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _"Sirius…" It's a whisper – a plea, and all I can do is stare ahead, my gray eyes connecting with amber ones._

 _The beast shifts on its haunches, rising to its full height. Rain falls from the heavens, hitting us harshly, but we pay it no mind. We're focused on each other, circling one another warily. I don't know who moves first; don't know who finally gives into temptation…_

 _I simply know that, in the next moment, the beast leaps towards me and tackles me to the ground. I fall, a small laugh bubbling out of my throat._

 _"Remus," I mumble. My voice is breathy, intimate. It's weird, but I have no time to question it. The beast licks my face, his pink tongue darting out to touch my pale skin. I shiver at its touch, watching in breathless awe as the eyes of the beast shine with want._

 _"Sirius," there goes the whisper again. Loud and heavy within my ears. I close my eyes, wanting to relish in it._

 _When I open my eyes, my surroundings fade away into black._

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

A dream; that's all it could have been.

Logically, I know this.

I've never met a bloke named Remus, nor have I ever met a beast. Why, then, do I still feel phantom sensations across my body? Why can I vividly imagine the beast on top of me, his daring pink tongue venturing out to lick my cheek? Why can I imagine its voice in my ear, lulling me into a state of tranquility?

Why, why, why, why?!

Shaking my head, I continue on my trek to Prong's house. James will know what to do; he always does. On the off chance, he doesn't, I can always ask Lily – the girl's always been a genius.

Nodding my head resolutely, I continue on my stroll, unaware of the glowing amber eyes that follow me.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"A beast, Sirius?" James asks, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes," I tell him, nodding. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Only you," he mumbles under his breath.

"Yeah, I know I'm awesome," I tell him, "but that's beside the point."

"What _is_ the point?" he asks me, intrigued.

"There's a lewd beast in my dreams and you seriously don't understand the problem?" I question, my eyes wide in disbelief. James smiles a little and rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on," he drawls. "Calm down. Is it truly that bad?"

"Yes!" I burst out. "I have a freaking beast in my dreams, and I'm having perverted thoughts about it!"

"You know," Lily finally chimes in, walking into the room. "Dreams can symbolize several things."

"What could this possibly mean, though?" I ask, confused. She rolls her eyes, seemingly irritated by my lack of knowledge. I can't help but stick my tongue out childishly.

"You said there's a beast, right?" she questions.

I nod.

"And his name is Remus?"

Another nod.

"He licked your face?"

Another nod.

"The whole scene felt intimate?"

Another nod.

"Perhaps, this Remus character is someone you know – well, used to know anyway."

"B-"

"Shut up, Sirius," Lily says calmly. "I'm not done."

Rolling my eyes, I stay quiet.

"His role as a beast may symbolize his inability to control himself in certain situations. The fact that he licked you could possibly symbolize his devotion towards you and the intimate mood may represent feelings that you have for him."

I stare at her, incredulous.

"That can't possibly be right," I tell her, feeling a blush rising on my cheeks. "I don't know him! I can't possibly like him."

"Oh, well," Lily says, shrugging. "You asked for our opinions; I gave you one."

Knowing that I can't really fault her for it, I nod, a confused frown spreading across my lips.

"Thank you," I whisper absently, getting up from my seat. This was a lot to absorb. I need time to figure it all out. Heading to the door, I give them both a hug before departing, my mind on the events that had just transpired.

 _Remus_ , I think. _Just who are you_?

No answer comes.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _This time, we're in a meadow. Dozens of flowers cover the ground, entrancing me with their beauty. The moon shines above us, its brilliant light shining down like a beacon of hope._

 _Remus, upon seeing me shiver from the freezing wind, stalks towards me. Immediately, I take the unspoken offer and wrap my arms around his fur, letting out a silent purr of relief when his warmth envelops me._

 _We sit there peacefully, admiring our surroundings for the longest while. Then, an hour later, it happens. Remus' body begins to let out weird creaking noises and the beast pulls away from me._

 _I watch in growing horror as the beast's body continues to twist, its bones elongating to form human ones. Soon enough, the beast from before is gone and a man replaces it._

 _Shoulder-length brown hair frames his face, only enunciating the beauty of his golden eyes. His body is petite yet muscular, two very contrasting traits that seem to work for him. He eyes me warily, most likely waiting for me to freak out, but I don't. Instead, I stare ahead, my eyes wide in shock._

 _Remus…_

 _Remus Lupin?_

 _It couldn't be… Remus was dead. …Right?_

 _"Sirius," he whispers into the air. His voice is familiar – too familiar, and I wonder how I didn't realize it before._

 _"I've missed you," he continues. His eyes glow ominously and his canines gleam in the moonlight. For the first time in my life, fear consumes me._

 _I scream, the sound rebounding off of the trees in the distance._

 _Remus merely smirks._

 _"We're going to have so much fun."_

 _Nothing could have prepared me for the horror that went through my body._

* * *

 **To be continued.**

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch Pitch – Harry Potter's World:** **(Genre) Supernatural,** **(Genre) Romance,** **(Non-Canon Pairings) Remus x Sirius,** **(Weather) Freezing,** **(Weather) Rain,** **(Quidditch Player) James Potter.**

 **August Word Count: 1,026.**


	155. Drabble 155: GodricSalazar

**Title: Change**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor x Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"What's wrong?" Godric asks tenderly, stepping into the room. Salazar stiffens, his whole entire body freezing at the sound of his lover's voice. Hastily wiping his eyes, he turns to face the other, forcing a smile on his face.

"Nothing," Salazar tells him, shrugging. Godric smiles at him indulgently, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you going to continue to lie to me, or do I need to force the information out of you?"

"And how would you do that?" Salazar asks, eyes glinting at the prospect of a challenge. Godric merely rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, pulling the younger teen towards him.

"Trust me, love," he whispers in Salazar's ear, causing him to shiver. "You don't want to know."

Shaking his head, Salazar moves to leave the room; however, a hand wrapping around his wrist effectively stops him. He looks at Godric, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Let go of me," he demands. The Gryffindor chuckles and shakes his head.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong, so let me go," Salazar lies. Godric uses his other hand to pull Salazar forward roughly, forcing the younger man to stand flush against his chest. Wrapping his arms around the younger's frame, Godric looks the teen right in the eyes.

"The truth," he commands softly. "Now."

Salazar looks away, his eyebrow twitching in irritation. Why did Godric have to be so irritating? Every time Salazar wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, Godric just had to force him to speak his mind. He couldn't even use his wand to hex the idiot because Godric had his arms pinned to his sides.

Huffing, he looks away. If he had to say it, fine, but he wasn't going to be vulnerable while he did it.

"It's you, idiot," he mumbles softly. He can hear Godric's pained gasp and quickly backtracks. "You're so bloody kind to others, so well liked…"

He trails off, feeling a blush start to rise on his cheeks.

"In contrast, I'm hated. I know I have a… 'rotten'… personality, but I don't mean to."

"I know," Godric cuts in softly, his hand rising to wipe Salazar's cheek. It's then that Salazar realizes that he had started crying, the small droplets flowing freely down his cheeks.

"You don't have to change," the other whispers. "You're fine just the way you are. Excessive kindness wouldn't suit you."

Salazar smiles dryly, rolling his eyes at his lover's words.

"Idiot," he mumbles.

"Besides," Godric continues, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Salazar's cheek. "If you were to be kind, who knows what kind of blokes would try to get you in their bed? No, Sal, you're mine."

Salazar couldn't help but chuckle, his chest feeling just the smallest bit lighter.

"Whatever," he says, amusement clear in his throat. "Now, let's go. I promised Rowena we'd help her woo Helga."

Godric smiles and leans in to press one last kiss on Salazar's cheek. Satisfied in the knowledge that his boyfriend knew he was loved, Godric takes his hand. Together, they make their way down the corridors of Hogwarts, intent on helping Rowena and Helga.

Finally, everything was right again.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Coaxed Eight 1 - Salazar Slytherin - Prompt: Change**

 **August Word Count: 530**


	156. Drabble 156: LuciusSeverus

**Title: Among the Lies and Deceptions, Kiss Me Goodnight**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Severus Snape**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Severus reclines against Lucius' chest, a small grin curling along the edges of his lips.

When Lucius had first confessed to him, he hadn't known if the other man was being serious. However, Lucius, ever the arrogant git, took matters into his own hands and bestowed a rather passionate kiss on Severus' lips. The passion was almost overwhelming and the younger teen couldn't help but return it eagerly.

As it turns out, that had been the best decision of his life.

Now, two years later, Lucius and Severus lived in a posh house. No longer, did they need their parents to finance them. They were fine – had been for years, and they knew things would continue to be that way as long as they had the other.

"What are you smiling for, love?" Lucius asks, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on Severus' cheek. Smiling, the normally sour man looks up, a small blush adorning his pale cheeks.

"You," he answers calmly, sighing in contentment. "Who would have thought that we would get together?"

"You know; I'm convinced that all of the arguing we did was caused by sexual tension."

Severus laughs, the sound ringing wonderfully throughout the house.

"Only you would say that," he chuckles. Looking out the window, he admires the dark, gray clouds that cover the sky. Snow falls from the heavens, bathing the world in its white glow.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lucius asks casually, wrapping an arm around Severus' middle section. Said man smiles, shifting slightly from his position in Lucius' lap.

"Positively delightful," he says. Lucius grins and swoops in to place a kiss on his lips.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he confides, a small blush blossoming on his cheeks. Severus laughs – the sound full of absolute joy. It's a beautiful sound, one that Lucius will treasure forever.

"In that case, why don't we go on a date?" Severus asks, turning slightly to look into silver eyes.

"Sure, when?" Lucius questions, the very thought of spending more time with Severus sending a delightful thrill through his body.

"Tomorrow?"

"Oh," Lucius trails off, a small frown curling along the edges of his lips. "Can you pick another date?"

At that, Severus looks back at him, his eyes narrowed.

"Okay," he says awkwardly. "What about the day after?"

Again, Lucius' frown deepens.

"Fine," Severus huffs. "Wednesday?"

This time, when Lucius frowns, Severus gets up and shakes his head angrily.

"Wait," Lucius calls out, getting up from his perch on the bed. Severus doesn't, though. Instead, he angrily stomps toward the exit, ignoring the other's calls.

He walks out and slams the door, leaving a befuddled Lucius staring blankly into space.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"You've been distracted lately," Voldemort remarks idly, swirling his gun in his hand lightly. Lucius keeps his eyes on the floor, both of his hands visible at all times.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," he says, his voice low. Voldemort merely hums and takes a step forward.

"I'm questioning your loyalty here, Lucius. You know that's not good."

Lucius doesn't answer. It was a rhetorical question, and he knew it.

"In order to prove your worth to me, I have a mission for you. Will you accept it?"

"Anything, my Lord," he vows. Voldemort smiles, his expression predatory.

"I knew I could count on you," he tells him, handing him a vanilla folder. Taking one last look at Lucius, he spins on his heel and leaves the room, leaving Lucius all alone.

By himself, the silver eyed man opens the envelope, his face paling with every word he reads. By the time he's finished, he's stark white.

"Severus," he whispers. "Forgive me…"

No one answers…

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _People fall left and right, expressions of pure terror morphing into ones of pain. Screams echo throughout the building, their loud notes seeming to caress him with promises – promises to haunt him for as long as he lived._

 _Blood falls to the ground and people fall dead._

 _A mother…_

 _A father…_

 _A son…_

 _A daughter…_

 _With every passing moment, Lucius' soul is forced further and further into despair. Like a mantra, he calls Severus' name, hoping, praying, that he will somehow be saved._

 _He's becoming a monster – one that he's not sure will find salvation._

 _"Severus… Severus… Severus…"_

 _Severus never answers…_

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"You've done well," Voldemort tells him, smiling at Lucius with faux warmth. "It will only be a matter of time until I achieve victory. Aren't you happy to be on the winning side?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius replies absently, his mind trapped in an endless loop of blood and pain.

Severus – he needs Severus!

"Remember, Lucius," Voldemort whispers, walking towards the door. "It's okay to attend to personal matters, but the second you become distracted, you both die."

With one last glance, he leaves the room, leaving an ashen Malfoy behind.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"I don't know, Minerva," Severus mumbles, nursing his seventh bottle of fire whisky. "I think he's cheating on me."

"Don't talk like that," Minerva chastises, glaring at her best friend. "Lucius loves you."

"If you say so," Severus mumbles. Gently, he allows his head to hit the table. He raises his hand to the ceiling, pretending that he was reaching for the stars.

"If only things were simpler…" he trails off. Beside him, Minerva watches Severus with mounting worry.

"Believe in him," she whispers when he finally falls asleep. "Lucius Malfoy may not be perfect, but he loves you, Severus. If only you could see that…"

Tenderly, she pushes his hair away from his eyes, smiling all the while.

"Don't destroy the best relationship I've ever seen…"

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Two weeks later, Severus shows up on their doorstep, pacing nervously. Gently, he knocks on the door. Minutes go by and no one answers. Fearing the worse, he uses his spare key to open the lock.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Blood – so, so much blood. It coated the walls, the carpet, the ceiling… It was everywhere. The coppery smell filled the air, tainting it with its ugliness. That wasn't the biggest problem. No, what chilled Severus to the core was the body that lay in the middle of the room.

"Lucius!" he screams, rushing forward. He drops to his knees beside the man, immediately checking for a pulse.

No heartbeat.

Feeling the tears begin to fall, he fruitlessly attempts CPR. Even then, there is no pulse.

Seeing a white envelope clutched in his beloved's hand, Severus gently pries it from him, his face paling at the contents.

 _Severus,_

 _If you're reading this, I am dead. I want you to know that this isn't your fault. I'm a bad man, love. The things I've done… There unforgivable. He threatened to kill you, love. I couldn't – **wouldn't** stand for you to die. Of all the people in my life, I can't lose you. I love you – perhaps, more than you'll ever know._

 _Know that I'll always be with you,_

 _~Lucius_

Allowing the tears to fall, Severus clutches the letter to his chest. He trembles and screams out, begging for Lucius to come back.

…He never does.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch Pitch - Harry Potter's World - (Genre) Angst, (Genre) Tragedy, (Non Canon Pairing) Lucius x Severus, (Quidditch Term) Lose, (Quidditch Term) Victory, (Quidditch Player) Minerva McGonagall, (Weather) Snow, (Weather) Clouds.**

 **August Word Count: 1,193**


	157. Drabble 157: TomGinny

**Title: Spider's Web**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Ginny Weasley**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _"In my world, there is love and enchantment. I'm different from the people that inhabit it. I have a curiosity - an innate **need** to see what else lurks in the world. Show me more; show me what hides behind the curtain." _

_"Your wish is my command, princess."_

 _A wish is made, a favor has been done..._

 _Pandemonium has commenced._

* * *

 _o-O-o_

* * *

Darkness and a harsh chill in the air...

Both things surround Ginny, pushing her further and further into depression. She had wished, wished for something more than she had, and had been burned in the process. She had needed it - needed it more than _anything_ , yet that need had led to her downfall. She sits in a cellar, her hands bound by chains. She is nothing now. Her identity has been forcibly taken, condemning her to a life filled with depravity and longing.

Love.

Enchantment...

She could have had both. Then again, curiosity has caused many empires to fall. Curiosity leads to loss; to bloodshed... Foolishly, she had allowed herself to fall into its evil clutches; foolishly, she had allowed herself to want; to _long_ for something that she couldn't possibly obtain.

Unfortunately for her, she did obtain it.

Sometimes, things are better left unseen. Tom Riddle, a knight in a neighboring nation, had come to her; his smile one of malicious desire. She had known right then and there that he was bad news, but...

He had intrigued her - _enticed_ her to do his bidding in exchange for a whole new world. Foolishly, she accepted his offer, condemning herself to a life full of pain.

Princess Ginerva of the Weasley Clan is no more. In her place, Jane Doe resides.

* * *

 _Several threads combine, the soft movement of the spider's legs barely echoing throughout the room. It's beady eyes stare ahead, unblinking. Slowly, almost dreadfully so, the web is woven - silver gleaming off of its edges. Satisfied, the spider moves to the middle of the contraption, closing its eyes in faux exhaustion. He waits, his entire body seemingly relaxed..._

 _A flutter._

 _A slight vibration..._

 _He strikes._

 _...The small butterfly is no more._

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **August Word Count: 354**

 **Pairing the Character - Drabble Competition - Week 15: Ginny Weasley - My Pairing: Tom Riddle x Ginny Weasley.**

 **HPFC Royalty Competition - Lords and Lady - Fic (100-500 Words)**

 **Ultimate Prompt Challenge - Color - Red**


	158. Drabble 158: RonHarry

**Title: Freedom**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Ron Weasley x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _"My house is a zoo; it's always filled with commotion and chatter. With you, all of it melts away. I know that we're not right for each other, know that we're both **men** , but that won't stop me from loving you." _

* * *

"Are you alright?"

Harry's voice is calm - hesitant, almost. I smile, turning to look at him with sad eyes.

"Never been better," I tell him.

"You're a wreck," he says softly, coming to sit by me. I shrug, rolling my eyes upward. Stars illuminate the sky, showing off its beauty. I stare at it, ignoring the imploring look Harry sends me.

"Am I?" I question. He nods, his hand reaching out towards me. I scoot back, my gaze going right back to the sky.

"You shouldn't touch me," I mumble. Harry glances at me warily, his gaze trained on me. I wonder if he thinks I'm going to run away. I smile, amused.

"I'm not leaving, Harry," I tell him gently.

"Sorry," he says, a small blush trailing across his cheeks. I wave it off, chuckling softly.

"You know," I say. "You're the best thing that's happened to me."

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but I continue on.

"Everything in my life is chaos. I have several brothers and sisters. All of us are striving to become our own person. We all do things in an effort to find ourselves, to find our place in the world... At times, we even forget that we're hurting the ones we love..."

I trail off, thinking. Harry stares at me expectantly.

"In an environment like that, it's only natural that our parents are unable to fully pay attention to me. I'm a jealous man, Harry. I desire to be listened to, to be _heard_ , and I know that it drives you and Hermione crazy."

I laugh, the sound sad. I want to cry, but I won't. I have to keep going - to _say_ it.

"The point is, I'm not an easy person to be around. I _know_ this. I'm grateful that you put up with that - _love_ it, even, despite the fact that it's horrible. I love you, Harry. Unlike everyone else, you pay attention to me and love me for who I am. _Thank you_."

The words echo throughout the clearing, their meaning hot and heavy in the air. I shift my gaze back to the sky, unwilling to see just what lurks behind green jewels. However, at that exact moment, Harry reaches out and grasps my chin, forcing our lips to clash together. He pulls back a moment later, his gaze intent.

"I love you, Ron Weasley. I love you for everything you are and everything you will be."

It's a promise - a _declaration_ , and I can't help the tears that stream freely down my face.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **August Word Count: 474**

 **Hogwarts Writing Club Competition - Game 5 - Fire - Team Ginny Weasely - Round 3: Zoo - 270-330 Words -** ***Note - This was originally 600 words. I had to cut it down, but I can't cut it down anymore. If I did, it would lose the very thing I was attempting to convey. Is it possible that I can simply loose points?**


	159. Drabble 159: GodricSalazar

**Title: Positively Adorable**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor x Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Idiot," Godric mumbles softly. Despite his words, he smiles and makes his way towards the gently slumbering teen.

Salazar is currently slumped on his desk, his head resting lightly on his elbows. Long lashes frame the teen's eyes, shielding them from view. A silky black curtain of hair falls down his back, the strands glinting in the artificial light the Chamber provides.

"You can't sleep here," Godric whispers. Taking a small breath, he leans forward and scoops the teen gently out of his seat, taking him over to the bedroom that was situated around the corner. Tenderly, he places the man on top of the bed, smiling when Salazar immediately rolls over to latch on to the pillow. The boy releases a satisfied sigh and settles down contently.

Godric can't help but laugh, the very sight amusing him greatly.

"You're adorable," he tells the sleeping teen. "If only you could see that."

"Are you sure you want him to?" a voice asks from the doorway. Startled, Godric turns around abruptly, glaring when he comes face to face with the smiling face of Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Don't do that," he tells her. She shrugs, her smile widening.

"Answer my question," she orders softly. Godric sighs, moving to sit down on the bed. Salazar's eyebrows narrow briefly when he feels the bed dip, but he has no other reaction to the Knight's presence.

"I don't," he answers truthfully.

"So, you finally admit it, huh?" Rowena asks, walking further into the room. She strolls towards him and gently cups his cheek, looking at him with piercing blue eyes. "You're in love with him."

"I am," Godric says, defeat coloring his tone. "Perhaps too much."

"You can never love someone too much," Rowena assures him with a shake of her head. "I think you'll be surprised with how much he's come to care for you as well."

"He may see me as family," Godric concedes, "but he doesn't love me."

"I don't know about that," Rowena hums. Tenderly, she reaches up to pat his head. "Give him time, okay?"

Godric nods wordlessly.

"Good," the woman says, smiling. "I think you'll be surprised with the results. Now, I have to go see Helga. Be a good boy and watch over him."

Blushing slightly, Godric nods, watching as the witch makes her way to the staircase. Now left alone, he turns towards the slumbering teen and leans forward to press a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Sleep well, Sal."

He turns away, missing the sliver of emerald that suddenly reveals itself.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **August Word Count: 429**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt Competition - 5 Points - 28. Patting someone else on the head.**


	160. Drabble 160: DracoHarry

**Title: Believe in Me**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _I've been told that falling in love is the best thing that can happen to a person. If that's true, why do I feel like I'm falling apart at the seams?_

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Are you alright?" Hermione asks, coming to sit next to me. I look up at her ruefully, a sad smile curling along the edges of my lips.

"I'm okay," I tell her. She stares at me, her eyes narrowed knowingly. However, she doesn't call me out on my lie. Instead, she looks out into the distance, sighing.

"Malfoy's a damn fool," she eventually says. I chuckle, the sound terribly bitter.

"He is," I agree, "but I'm an idiot for falling for the ponce."

"Oh, Harry," she mumbles, moving to wrap her arm around me. "You can never be a fool for falling in love."

 _Then, why do I feel like an idiot?_

Tears burn behind my eyelids and a sob wracks my frame. Hermione, understanding my plight, helps me maintain some dignity by not looking at me. She merely clutches me tighter, her eyes trained forward.

"Never a fool," she whispers. "Falling in love makes you stronger…"

A resounding sob is my only response.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _Distantly, I can remember a time where I wasn't madly in love with the boy. In fact, I hated him. All that changed, though, when I got a glimpse of the real Draco Malfoy._

 _I had been walking down the corridors of Hogwarts, searching aimlessly for something – what it was, I have no idea. I simply felt the need to leave my dorm, to search for something to relieve my extreme boredom._

 _By pure chance, I found Draco. The blonde was pacing back and forth in a corridor around the corner, his blonde hair flying slightly in the wind. Gray eyes were alight with agitation and he was mumbling to himself._

 _At that moment, I knew that it was time to leave, but I couldn't bring myself to turn around. I was entranced, the irritation in his gaze lighting up an almost impossibly strong curiosity within me._

 _"I don't want to do it," I heard him say. I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to – that, if he wanted to, he could always choose not to. I didn't care that I didn't know what he was talking about. I simply knew that I didn't want him to be so agitated. Supposed enemy or not, no one should be forced to do something they don't want to._

 _"He'll kill me…" he says, running a frustrated hand through his hair, cursing slightly underneath his breath._

 _Quite honestly, I was shocked. Draco Malfoy, the person who I had always believed to be an evil git, seemed to have feelings after all. I felt quite foolish for thinking that he didn't. Deciding that it would probably be best for me to leave, I turn on my heel and return to my dorm. Behind me, Malfoy continues to rant to himself._

 _For the first time in my life, I felt pity for him swell in my chest._

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"What does it feel like, mate?" Ron questions, sitting down beside me. I look at him questioningly.

"You fell for him, didn't you?" he elaborates, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. I nod, appreciating the fact that he asked despite the fact that he's clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"It hurts," I tell him. "It feels like he reached out and squeezed my heart mercilessly."

"Wow…" Ron says, sympathetic. I nod sadly, turning my gaze upwards. Above us, the sky is bright – a very stark contrast to my mood.

"But, you know what?" Ron asks, breaking me out of my reverie. I shake my head, turning to look at him questioningly. "Malfoy doesn't deserve you."

I laugh bitterly.

"I wonder…" I trail off. "If it's not the other way around."

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _I don't know what it is about that night, but, before I know it, I'm following him. Perhaps, it's curiosity – a desire to know more about the new layer of him that has been revealed. All I know is that I'm following him, my gaze intent as he walks down numerous corridors. His gait is fast – almost hurried – and I struggle to keep up._

 _Finally, he stops at an abandoned classroom, entering quietly. Under the safety of my invisibility cloak, I slip in through the partially opened door, going to wait in a shrouded corner of the room._

 _Malfoy paces around for a couple of minutes, his distress almost palpable in the silence around us. Abruptly, he falls to the ground, pulling at his hair in frustration. My eyes are wide as I regard him, my green irises watching in shock as a tear slowly trails down his cheek._

 _"Shit," the boy curses, more tears falling. I can only watch, helplessness beginning to wash over me in waves. That night, I watch as Draco Malfoy breaks down in tears, the true weight of his situation crashing down upon me._

 _Unlike me, he's trapped – trapped by his mother, his father, his life. He has no other choice than to do Voldemort's bidding, for, if he doesn't, he will be killed and lose everything._

 _A tear…_

 _A sob…_

 _All of my opinions, all of my feelings… Every single one of them are false in the eye of the truth. That evening, upon returning to my dorm, I reflect upon what I witnessed. In the dead of night, I make a promise – one that I didn't know would damn me later._

 _"I'll help you… Draco."_

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Potter," a voice calls. Dread forms in my stomach, its icy tendrils wrapping around me and forcing me to endure its painful touch. Turning around, I come face to face with the scowling visage of Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," I say curtly, ignoring the small flash of pain in his eyes.

"Why aren't you going to class?" he asks me. I stare at him in disbelief, wondering briefly if he had come here solely to torture me.

"I met this guy," I tell him, smiling sadly. "He was wonderful, but he couldn't let himself be happy."

Draco looks down, an unknown emotion flashing over his face. Was that shame?

"Really?" Draco asks suddenly, looking up. "Maybe he loves you, but doesn't want to hurt you."

He looks at me pleadingly, begging me to understand.

"If he did, I'd be disappointed," I tell him truthfully. "He should know that I love him enough to relish the pain."

He locks eyes with me, sadness and regret in his gaze. I smile.

"I love you, Draco," I whisper. "I just wish you trusted me."

Turning around, I turn on my heel, ignoring him as he calls my name. My chest clenches tightly and I can't help the tears that stream down my face.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _Sometimes, I want to die. I don't remember how I lived without loving you. The love I feel for you breathes life into me – forces me to live. I know you love me, but do you trust me? Believe in me, love. Believe in the fact that I will gladly take any pain if it means I can be with you._

 _I love you, Draco… Can't you see that?_

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **August Word Count: 1,214**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt Competition - 10 Points - 42. (Era) Trio**


	161. Drabble 161: GodricSalazar

**Title: Of Threats and Promises**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor x Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

 _The things you do for love…_

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"I am _not_ wearing that," Salazar declares, sneering at the striped monstrosity. Godric pouts, turning to look at him pleadingly.

"Please?" he begs, his lip quivering comically. Salazar stares at him for a moment, his own dread fighting against his desire to keep Godric happy. Eventually, he sighs, pushing his hand out wordlessly. Beaming, Godric leans in to press a sweet kiss on the boy's cheek. He doesn't hesitate to wrap the striped scarf around Salazar's neck, smiling when it drapes off of him adorably.

"You look positively dashing," he compliments, outright laughing at the glare sent his way.

"You owe me," Salazar announces, an evil glint abruptly entering his eyes. Wary, Godric nods hesitantly.

"Okay," he says carefully. Salazar nods to himself, satisfied. The gleam glows brighter, scaring the absolute mess out of Godric. Before he can comment on it, Rowena marches into the room, a scowl on her face. As soon as her eyes land on them, they flash in irritation.

"Godric," she says dangerously, stomping over to them. "Did you take my scarf?"

Paling, the man immediately backs up, shaking his head repeatedly.

"N-no," he stutters. Rowena smiles deviously and points towards the miserable Salazar.

"Then, what's that?" she asks sweetly. Godric, sensing the danger, immediately runs to the door. The witch had anticipated this; however, and flicked her wand, hurling a bright blue light at his figure. Immediately, the Knight fell to the ground, his body bound by ropes.

"Make sure this doesn't happen again," Rowena tells Salazar, smiling at the teen. Nodding wordlessly, Salazar watches, shocked, as the witch drags the now kicking and screaming Gryffindor out of the room.

"Wait," Salazar says to himself. "Does that mean I can take off the scarf now?"

No one answers.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Word Count: 304**

 **September Back to School Event 1 - 15. (Emotion) Miserable, 31. (Object) Striped Scarf**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt Competition - 10 Points - 4. (Character) Godric Gryffindor**


	162. Drabble 162: RowenaHelga

**Title: Welcome to Ravenclaw**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Rowena Ravenclaw x Helga Hufflepuff**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

 _Welcome to Ravenclaw!_

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Come with me," Rowena orders, smiling widely. Laughing, Helga let the woman lead her through the school, their hands intertwined. Finally, when they arrive at a portrait, Rowena whispers something to it. With a bang, it opens, revealing the most beautiful room Helga had ever seen.

Azure walls surround her, intricate swirls etched onto them. Dozens of bookcases litter the area, their shelves filled to capacity with all sorts of books and genres. Three large windows are situated on the wall, each of which are adorned by the Ravenclaw crest. All in all, it's mesmerizing.

With a gasp, Helga launches forward, running around the room and checking out everything it has to offer. When she approaches the windows, she gently grasps the blue drapes that hang from it, admiring the silky texture.

"You built all of this yourself?" she asks, awe clear in her tone. Rowena nods, a satisfied smile curling along her lips.

"There's a library upstairs as well."

"You're kidding," Helga mumbles. Rowena smiles at her indulgently and takes a step towards her.

"I'm happy you like it," she tells the other girl sincerely. Helga beams at her and reaches out to take her hand.

"Take me upstairs," she demands softly. "I want to see the library!"

Chuckling, Rowena does just that, watching the other with faint amusement as she runs around the book filled space.

This was paradise.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Word Count: 234**

 **September House Pride Event - Ravenclaw - Character Event - Rowena Ravenclaw**

 **September House Pride Event - Ravenclaw - Prompt Event - Azure**


	163. Drabble 163: MerlinGellert

**Title: Knowledge Breeds Power**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Merlin x Gellert Grindelwald**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

 _In the height of your power, you are bound to be beautiful. Show me, Merlin. Show me what you can do with your power…_

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Curly blonde hair falls to his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a rebellious teenager. Bright blue eyes peer out into the world, their depths analyzing everything they see. His gaze is malevolent; something that one should always watch out for. However, when coupled with his childish appearance, one often dismisses the evil that lingers within.

Big mistake.

People fall to his innocence. Their naivety; their ability to _trust_ so completely is often their downfall, and the boy knows this.

Like a spider, he pounces on unsuspecting victims, ruthlessly trapping them within his web.

Gellert Grindelwald is a menace. This, Merlin, knows well.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Will you ever release me?" the wizened wizard asks, peering at Gellert from his place on the floor. Said boy walks over from his bookcase, looking at him with an extreme amount of interest.

"No," he tells him, shaking his head. "I want to study you."

"Why me, though?" Merlin asks. "Why'd you go through the trouble of taking me from my time period?"

"To study you, of course," Gellert tells him nonchalantly. "You are one of the oldest wizards around. Naturally, I'd want to see what made you one of the first bearers."

Rolling his eyes, Merlin peers right into blue depths.

"Be careful," he advises the other. "You should never underestimate an opponent."

Gellert blinks at him, his head tilted to the side. It seemed he was truly clueless as to what the older man was talking about.

"I'm not," he says. "I _want_ you to fight back."

"Why?" Merlin asks, truly interested. He scoots forward slightly, his eyes trained on the other.

"Your power," the teen breathes. "I want to see how strong it is."

"Have you not read the books?"

"That's not enough," Gellert tells him, shaking his head. "I want to see it firsthand."

Nodding absently to himself, Merlin turns to look out the window. Gellert returns to his bookcase and peruses through the books.

Surprisingly, a comfortable silence rings out.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Word Count: 359**

 **September Back to School Event: 1. (word) Clueless, 14. (emotion) Interested.**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt - 10 Points - 41. (Era)Riddle**


	164. Drabble 164: Wizarding World x Survival

**Title: S.U.R.V.I.V.E**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: None**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

 **Note - For all those who read this, please know that I am _not_ a poet. I seriously feel like I am insulting a lot of dedicated poets by posting this, and I'm sincerely sorry. However, it's required for a competition, so... Let us begin. **

* * *

_"As long as I exist, I don't care if I got to hell, or if there's only suffering there."_

 _~Orihara, Izaya (Durarara)_

* * *

 **I** will never fail, will never immerse myself in the darkness that surrounds me.

 **W** e, the people of Wizarding Britain, will continue to rise, continue to fight for what we believe in.

 **I** n this world, we only have two options. We can submit or we can fight.

 **L** et us join together!

 **L** et us rise like the united race we are and fight for what we believe in!

 **S** urrender is for those who can't survive, for people who can't take care of themselves...

 **U** nited we stand! Divided we fall!

 **R** ally the children! Rally the old! Rally the women! Rally the men!

 **V** ictory is ours!

 **I** t lies on a table, awaiting our appraising gazes!

 **V** exation is not a look fit for our people!

 **E** ven when the going gets tough and it looks like we will lose, fight! Fight for your dignity, your pride, your unity as a nation!

Even if hell freezes over, FIGHT!

* * *

 ***As this is an Acrostic poem, please take the time to read the bold letters. They spell out a message.**

 **Written for:**

 **September Word Count: 174**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt - 15 Points - 1. Write a poem based on your quote. - Explanation: The quote basically says that surviving is all that's important - not the way you do it. In this poem, we took the theme of survival and molded it into a speech of sorts.**


	165. Drabble 165: GodricSalazar

**Title: Tell Me You Love Me**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Godric x Salazar**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

 _Kiss me beneath the stars and tell me you love me._

* * *

"Do you love me?" Godric asks softly, his gaze downcast. Salazar looks up, startled.

"Of course I do," he says after a moment. "Why would you think that I don't?"

"You don't show it," the Knight tells him.

"'Ric," Salazar sighs, coming to sit beside him. "Do you really need me to do that, though? I love you for all that you are, you know this. Where is this coming from?"

Godric doesn't answer. He merely keeps his eyes trained on the ground. Sighing softly, Salazar leans close and cups the man's cheek.

"I love you," he whispers before sealing their lips together. Godric smiles into the kiss, a small tear trailing down his cheek. Pulling back after a breathless moment, he looks into stunning green eyes.

"I love you too."

"So that was answer enough?" Salazar teases gently, smirking. Godric can't help but laugh, leaning over to ruffle the other's hair.

"Shut up, brat."

He was loved and he was happy; what more could he ask for?

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Word Count: 168**

 **Day 5 of Shipping Week - Answer**


	166. Drabble 166: Harry x Regret

**Title: Regret**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Harry x Regret**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

The crimson liquid runs freely, painting everything in its path a rich scarlet. Harry watches, entranced, as it continues to move, continues to destroy everything he's worked so hard to create.

Petunia Dursley, age 52.

Vernon Dursley, age 54.

Dudley Dursley, age 17.

Dead, dead, dead...

His whole life, he had hated them, had _despised_ them for everything they had put him through. Previously, they had been his tormentors – people he didn't love, but desperately needed if he wished to survive.

Now, look at them. The family is dead and he's the only survivor.

He had dreamed about this for years, dreamed about finally being _free_ , but the feelings that he feels now can't even begin to compare.

He feels rotten – _spoiled._ It feels as if he shouldn't have lived, as if he's _betrayed_ them by living. The feeling makes him feel dirty. He wants to claw at his skin over and over again, peeling back flesh until he's finally reached his blood. Then, he wants to pour it all out. Harry desperately wants to put his bleeding appendage over their graves and watch as he slowly bleeds out. He wants to return the life that he had unknowingly taken away.

All around him, he can feel the accusing eyes of all the guests. He had done this; had put this seemingly innocent family in the ground. Of course, no one actually knew that, but he still felt like they were accusing him. After all, if it weren't for Harry, Voldemort would have never raided the house.

It was all his fault…

Anger, hot and bitter, courses through his veins. The irony gets him, though. His entire life, he's only wanted them dead. Now, though? Now, he wants them to live. He craves for them to return to the land of the living; to put him through even more crap…

Feeling tears burn inside his eyes, Harry can't help but laugh.

Alone…

Well and truly alone…

It hurt more than he thought it would.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt – C – 20 Points – 39. Write about laughing at a funeral.**

 **September Event: National Yoga Month – 6. Corpse Pose – Write about a funeral.**

 **September Word Count - 334**


	167. Drabble 167: HermioneHarry

**Title: He Loves Me?**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Hermione x Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

"What's wrong?" Hermione inquires, peering down at Harry with concern.

"I'm tired," the boy reveals. "Tired of spending every waking moment going after Voldemort; tired of fearing the outside world because of something I should have nothing to do with; tired of making people get hurt because of something I did."

"That's not true, Harry," Hermione tells him, leaning forward to wrap her arms around him. "People get hurt because they're in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And Sirius?" Harry asks with a shake of his head. "If I hadn't been so naïve, he wouldn't have-"

"He would have died eventually," Hermione cuts in quietly. "So, it happened a little sooner. At least he managed to die doing something he truly cared about."

"What's that?" Harry asks curiously.

"Saving you," she whispers softly. Harry stares at her, his eyes wide.

"He loved you, Harry," she continues. "He saved you because of the love he felt for you; not because he had to."

The boy looks away, his heart seeming to jolt painfully inside of his chest. Sirius had loved him? Despite everything, Sirius _really_ loved him? Feeling his heart warming, Harry turns around to face Hermine once more. Gently, he hugs her, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you," he tells her sincerely. Hermione merely smiles, her eyes shining with happiness.

"That's what friends are for."

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Shipping Week over at Caesar's Palace. Come check out the forum! It's fun! :)**

 **September Word Count - 229**


	168. Drabble 168: GodricSalazar

**Title: Collar Me**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Godric x Salazar**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Salazar kneels on the floor, his head resting lightly on the ground. Above him, Godric watches, content to just watch his lover squirm. Eventually, he leans down and grasps a handful of long black hair, pulling it in an effort to bare that pretty little throat.

"You've been bad," he mumbles softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on the milky white flesh. Salazar blushes, but there's a defiant set to his jaw. "I have half a mind to punish you."

"You should," Salazar says. Godric clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and looks deep into his eyes.

"Did I ask you?" he questions. Salazar shakes his head, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Then, don't speak."

The Knight pauses, as if waiting for the other to say something. When no remark comes, he relaxes, leaning in to bite at the flesh offered to him.

"Rather than punishing you, I'm going to give you a gift."

At his words, Salazar stiffens, his eyes boring into Godric's form intensely. He doesn't speak, but his expression speaks volumes.

 _Have you finally gathered the nerve to do it?_

Feeling his lips twitch in amusement, Godric pulls back from Salazar and makes his way to a cabinet situated in the corner. He takes his time perusing the contents and comes back three minutes later, a box in his hand. As soon as he's in the other's view, Godric can feel the other's gaze on him. He walks up to Salazar and stops, allowing another minute to pass. By now, the other was shifting every few moments, his knees obviously hurting from his position.

Taking pity on him, Godric opens the box, revealing a beautiful collar. It's a thick ring of leather, one that is sure to encompass the other's neck. Words are etched onto the leather: _The Property of Godric Gryffindor._ Attached to the collar, was a large golden ring.

Tenderly, Godric places the collar on his partner.

"With this, you are mine," he whispers. Salazar smiles and nods.

"Always."

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Hogwarts Writing Club - Team Ginny Weasley - Word Count: 370 - 430. Prompt: Collar**

 **Shipping Week - Day 7 - No Prompt!**

 **September Word Count: 382**


	169. Drabble 169: Luna (Solaris) x Harry

**Title: Solaris Knows Thy Name**

 **Pairing: Luna x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Word Count: 1,937**

 **Primarily Written for: Round 11 of Quidditch League. I, Firediva0, am the Keeper of the Wasps and my prompt was Gender Bender AU!.**

 **Warnings: Gender bender AU, Ghost AU, Male Luna AU.**

 **Summary: Tragedy strikes Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With Luna Lovegood dead, everyone mourns. Harry Potter, the former lover of the girl, is particularly sad. However, when a strange boy appears before Harry's eyes, what happens?**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own the Harry Potter franchise. Everything from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling and her team. I am merely a humble fan who is in love with the series.**

* * *

o-O-o

 _Darkness Knows Thy Name_

o-O-o

* * *

Harry walks into the Great Hall, not paying any mind to the fact that all conversation ceases. Everyone watches, their eyes wide, as the Boy-Who-Lived slowly makes his way to the Gryffindor table, his eyes downcast. As if in a trance, he sits down and begins making a plate, ignoring everything that's going on around him.

On each of his sides, Hermione and Ron look at him, concern swirling in their eyes; however, following his example, they begin to eat, casting worried glances at him as they do so.

Hesitantly, the students go back to talking, their chatter steadily rising as they become more comfortable.

"Is he going to be okay?" a girl asks, her eyes trailing over to Harry.

"Would you be?" another retorts. "His girlfriend _died_."

"It was just Loony," a boy cuts in. "If anything, he should be glad that she's gone."

"Elias," another boy cuts in. "That's not cool. Don't talk bad about the dead."

"Whatever," the boy, Elias, says, rolling his eyes. "If anything, she deserved it."

From his place at the Gryffindor table, Harry listens to everything that's said, sympathetic and cruel alike, but he doesn't say a word.

Luna, his pride, his joy, his _life,_ is dead. The very thought causes his heart to clench painfully inside of his chest. Even now, he can remember her tender smile while she talked about Wrackspurts and Nargles; he can remember the soft glint in her eyes whenever she looked at him; he can remember the sweet smell of strawberries that followed her wherever she went, and the adorable little radishes that she put on her earrings.

No one had expected her to die so soon; they especially never thought that of all things, she'd fall down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. Apparently, she had been at the bottom of the stairs for hours, her mangled form lying in a pool of blood. The poor student who had found her had been traumatized.

When Harry had been called to the Headmaster's office, he thought it had something to do with the prophecy. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he was being called because Luna, sweet and innocent Luna, had met such a dreadful end.

Alas, she was gone now, and all he could do was mourn her.

"Harry," Hermione calls gently, nudging his shoulder. Startled, the boy looks up, gazing straight into chocolate eyes. Chocolate... Luna had taken every chance she got to give Remus chocolate. She was so kind even when the world didn't repay the favor.

"Yes?" he asks. His voice is raspy, most likely from the long hours he spent crying in his bed.

"It's time for class," Hermione says.

Nodding, Harry forces himself to get up. He follows Ron and Hermione out of the Hall, his eyes wandering to the Ravenclaw table unconsciously.

 _There…_ His eyes zero in on the spot that Luna had always occupied. _You were always there…_

Feeling a soft pang in his heart, Harry looks away, the memory of soft gray eyes following him.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

After a long and stressful day, Harry walks into his dorm room, exhausted. He flops on the bed and closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep slumber.

 _Harry…_

Hours have passed and the boy continues to sleep on peacefully, oblivious to the figure that watches him from the foot of his bed.

 _Harry,_ the voice tries again.

A twitch.

He continues to sleep. Soft gray eyes harden.

 _Harry!_

The voice is loud and shrill. Abruptly, the slumbering boy sits up, his eyes darting around wildly. Upon seeing no one, he lays back down, his eyes wide open.

 _Harry,_ the voice calls tenderly. Wide awake, Harry looks towards the foot of his bed, his eyes widen as he takes in the figure that sits there.

A boy–lithe and muscular–sits languidly, his long blond hair flowing down his back in waves. Eyes a tender gray stare into Harry's own, willing him to understand what he's seeing. The boy's skin is transparent, marred only by several cuts that have been scabbed over. He wears a gray cardigan and black slacks, familiar radish earrings dangling from his ears.

A spike of familiarity rushes through Harry's veins, and he is sure that he knows this person, sure that he's seen this face in several states.

Happy, sad, impassioned, angry, ridiculed… This can only be one person.

" _Luna,"_ he whispers breathily.

The boy laughs, the sound reminiscent of bells. Harry can't help the warmth that envelops him. This is Luna. His Luna.

"Solaris," the boy gently corrects. "Luna died when she fell out of the tower."

"Who are you, then?" Harry asks quietly. "You're Luna, right?"

"A version," Solaris goes on to explain. "When Luna died, she was resentful and wanted vengeance. Because of that, her soul was brought back. However, it's not possible to die and come back completely unharmed. When Luna came back, she messed with the balance of the world. In order to fix it, Lady Magic created the complete opposite of Luna."

"So, you're _not_ Luna?" Harry asks skeptically.

"Not completely. I have her memories and Luna and I share the same soul, but everything else is different. Take her name, for example. Luna is a name referencing the moon. Solaris, in contrast, references the sun. Then, we have the matter of gender. Luna was a girl, and I am _clearly_ not one."

"You seem kind, just like her," Harry remarks. Solaris smiles, the expression mischievous.

"Never judge a book by its cover," he says cryptically.

Harry stares at him in disbelief."This is crazy," he sighs. "First, my girlfriend dies, then a ghost comes and tells me that he's Luna but _not_ Luna at the same time? When did my life get so messed up?"

Solaris looks on, a small glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Anyway," Harry continues, "why was Luna angry?"

At the question, Solaris sobers up quickly, regarding Harry with a stern stare.

"She was pushed," he supplies.

"Wait, someone _pushed_ her? Why would they do that?" Harry asks, his mind struggling to find an answer.

"Why do you think, Harry?" Solaris asks, a twinge of annoyance coloring his tone. "Obviously, Luna wasn't the most well-liked witch in the school. She even procured the name Loony. If that's not enough of an explanation for you, I don't know what is."

"You can dial down the attitude," Harry says, glaring. "In that case, shouldn't we go find her killer?"

Solaris rolls his eyes, staring up at the ceiling with a look of helpless misery.

"No," he says sarcastically. "I'm just here explaining this to you for kicks."

"Well, sorry," Harry drawls, rolling his eyes. "Didn't mean to be a nuisance to you.'

"Apology accepted," Solaris says, smirking wickedly.

Sighing to himself in agitation, Harry asks, "So, what do we do now?"

"Here's the plan…." Solaris goes on to explain. Throughout his explanation, a small smirk curls along Harry's lips.

"That's brilliant," he compliments.

"Obviously," Solaris says, smirking. "I'm the one who came up with it."

"Definitely not Luna," Harry mumbles to himself. "You're a blood prat."

"What'd you say?" Solaris asks, his eyebrow raising challengingly. Harry shakes his head and smiles.

"Nothing," he coos.

Before the other boy could call him out on his lie, Harry quickly gets out of bed and heads towards the door.

"Come on," he calls behind him. "Let's go catch ourselves a murderer."

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Solaris and Harry stand behind two tall pillars in the Astronomy Tower. They've been standing there for hours, their ropes held at the ready.

"Are you sure they'll come?" Harry asks for the fifteenth time, yawning.

"Yes," Solaris says for what feels like the hundredth time. "All the books I checked said that the murderer always appears at the scene of the crime."

"They do," Harry agrees. "To _kill_."

"No, you idiot, they come at the end, as well!" Solaris argues. However, after hours of having this same exact argument, his words lack any real heat.

"I don't think this is gon-"

"Shut up!" Solaris hisses abruptly, his eyes wide. "I heard something."

Straightening up, both boys wait in breathless abandon, Harry's hands coiling tightly around the rope and Solaris' twitching in anticipation.

A footstep…

Rustling…

A loud breath…

"Now!"

At once, Harry pushes forward with all of his might, cackling when the rope wraps around their target with expert precision. Both of them take a deep breath, triumph rising in their chests.

"We got him!" Harry exclaims. Solaris' lips twitch a little, but he has no other reaction. Taking a step forward, he motions towards the figure on the ground.

Harry follows his unspoken order obediently, his fingers gently tugging the hair of the person on the floor. Tenderly, he pulls the head up, gaping at the brown eyes that greet him.

" _Hermione?!"_ he asks in disbelief. Chocolate eyes widen in recognition and the girl struggles in his grasp. Behind them, Solaris' eyes flash with disappointment.

" _This_ is the person that killed me?" he asks, outraged. "Some weak little know-it-all?!"

He looks at Hermione, his eyes flashing. It's as if he truly feels betrayed. Hermione, in contrast, looks at him with terror, her eyes wide in fright.

"L-Luna?" she asks fearfully. Solaris snaps out of his pity party at the sound of her voice and smirks at her viciously.

"Yes?" he asks, ignoring the sharp look Harry sends him. He's going to make her suffer; if he has to use Luna to do it, so be it.

"I didn't mean to," the brunette hurries to say. "I fell a-"

"You _fell_ , huh?" Solaris asks, his hardened gray eyes boring into her form. "So, you didn't _mean_ to push me down the stairs and break all the bones in my body?"

A fearful shake of the head, hurried and terrified.

Solaris can't help but grin.

"In that case, I'll _accidentally_ kill you," he tells her. At once, he launches himself at her, his eyes alight with fiery anger. He didn't expect someone to say his name sharply. Turning back with a scowl, he freezes upon coming across blank emerald eyes.

"Let's just go," Harry tells him, motioning towards the doors.

"Are you crazy?" Solaris questions, gesturing towards the quivering girl. "She _murdered_ your girlfriend, and you want to let her go?"

"She's my best friend," Harry tells him angrily. "Plus, she said it was an accident and-"

"You believe her?!" Solaris bursts out angrily. "She was _lying,_ Harry! How daft can you be?!"

"She's my best friend!" Harry says fiercely. "Don't make me lose her too! I wouldn't be able to take it if she died as well…"

Solaris takes a moment to truly _look_ at Harry. The boy's eyes are downcast, and he has tears falling down his cheeks. In that moment, Solaris can truly see just how much the boy had _loved_ Luna, and he couldn't bring himself to add to the boy's pain.

"Leave," he says coldly, glaring at Hermione. The girl didn't hesitate to run out of the room, not even bothering to look back at the two boys behind her.

The two stood in silence, each lost in their own little worlds. Abruptly, Solaris turns around and reaches out to ruffle Harry's hair, ignoring the fact that his hand passed right through.

"Idiot," he remarks angrily. "You're a sentimental _fool_."

Despite the words, Harry smiles at him.

"Thank you," he whispers sincerely. Solaris scoffs, looking off into the distance. Contrary to his actions, he can't help but smile slightly.

"Whatever," he says. "You're still a fool, Harry."

* * *

o-O-o

 **The End**

o-O-o

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Round 11 of Quidditch League - Firediva0, Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps - Prompt: Gender Bender AU!**

 **Year Long Scavenger Hunt - C: 20 Points - 18. Write about a Death.**

 **September Event: Back to School - 58. (location) Great Hall, 13. (Emotion) Exhausted.**

 **September Word Count: 1937**


	170. Drabble 170: (Luna) Solaris x Harry

**Title: Shine Bright**

 **Pairing: Solaris x Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Male Luna! Rockstar AU!**

 **Summary: Solaris was a rockstar?!**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own anything concerning the HP franchise. I especially do not own the song mentioned in this chapter. The only thing I own is the plot. I am merely a humble fan entranced by her favorite book series.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Harry stared at his boyfriend adoringly, a smile stretched wide across his face. Solaris' long blond hair flowed elegantly down his back and his gray eyes sparkled in amusement. While he was wearing a simple gray cardigan and black slacks, he definitely made up for it with the adorable radish earrings that hung from his ears. His cheekbones were sharp and his frame was tall and muscular. While Harry didn't like him only for appearances, he had to admit that it was a welcome bonus.

As Halloween was right around the corner, their school, Hogwarts High, was throwing a costume party. The theme this year was witches and wizards, so each student was expected to go into town and purchase beautiful additions. While Solaris didn't really like shopping, he put up with it for Harry's sake. The younger boy was running around the store in search of parchment, quill and ink sets, and wands. The smile he sported was just so cute that Solaris couldn't find it in him to tell him no.

"Sol," Harry called, the nickname rolling effortlessly off of his tongue. Startled, the taller boy yelped slightly. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed that Harry had finally stopped in front of him.

"Ah, yeah?" he asked curiously. Harry chuckled, the sound eerily reminiscent of bells.

"Which one?" he questioned, pointing towards two wands. One was supposedly made of Phoenix feathers and Holly, while the other was made of Phoenix feather and Yew. Solaris looked at the two wands and reached out to gently grasp the one made of holly.

"This one," he rumbled softly, smiling a little at the spark of enthusiasm that glinted in Harry's eyes. The boy launched himself forward and briefly pecked Solaris' cheek.

"Thank you!" he said. Before Solaris could say you're welcome, Harry was gone, his figure already running towards the cash register. Throughout it, Solaris could only smile indulgently. His boyfriend was simply too cute.

"Hey!" Harry called when he was done. "Let's go! I still want to check out the clothing store in Hogsmeade!"

Rolling his eyes, Solaris stood up and hurried to acquiesce his boyfriend, knowing just how cranky Harry would get if he lingered.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

After many, _many_ trips to various clothing stores, Harry was proud to say that he had finally assembled the perfect outfit.

His robe was a deep black with dark green trim, and he had managed to get the Hogwarts crest etched onto the left breast pocket. As he didn't have black slacks, he asked Solaris if he could borrow one of his. His lover, more than happy whenever Harry wore an article of his clothing, allowed this and even helped him roll up the pant legs.

His elegant Phoenix feather wand made of Holly was tucked away neatly into his new wand holster. Both items were strapped securely to his arm, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. All in all, he thought he looked stunning, and he could tell by the bright sparkle in Solaris' eyes that he felt the same.

"You look dashing," Solaris said when he asked him, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Harry's lips. The boy couldn't help but smile and return the sentiments. It was true, after all. Solaris looked positively _amazing_ in his black robe with purple trim. He, too, had the Hogwarts crest etched onto his left breath and had a wand made of Blackthorn and Dragon Heart String.

"Come on," Solaris called, pulling him towards his bedroom door. "We have to get going or we'll be late."

Nodding, Harry allowed himself to be pulled, smiling widely when they finally got to the car.

This was going to be so much fun!

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

It was the height of the dance and everyone was gyrating to the music. The teachers let them get away with it as they were too busy flirting amongst themselves to notice. Solaris has just excused himself to go to the bathroom, when it happened.

Situated between Ron and Hermione, Harry watched, stunned, as the curtains of the stage slowly opened to reveal Solaris and a couple of his friends. The drummer banged his drumsticks three times as a pacer and then the lead guitarist joined in. The music blared through the speakers and all of the high schoolers couldn't help but dance. Harry; however, could only watch as his boyfriend brought the mic up to his lips and began to sing.

 _Move your body like a hairy troll_

 _(Uh Huh)_

 _Learning to rock and roll_

 _Spin around like a crazy elf_

 _Dancin' by himself_

 _(Yeah)_

 _Boogie down like a unicorn_

 _No stoppin' till the break of dawn_

 _Put your hands up in the air_

 _Like an ogre, who just don't care_

 _Oh! Can you dance like a hippogriff?_

 _Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na_

 _Flyin' off from a cliff_

 _Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na_

 _Swooping down to the ground_

 _Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na_

 _Wheel around and around and around and around_

 _Na na na ma ma ny na na_

The Weird Sisters hit song, Do the Hippogriff, blared through the speakers, and Harry gasped when those beautiful gray eyes connected with his. Beside him, Hermione nudged his shoulder, and Harry finally felt his shock give away to excitement.

"My boyfriend's a rockstar!" he told Hermione excitedly. The girl laughed and danced, smiling at him widely. The two continued to move around, not really caring what they looked like, as they allowed the song to completely take over their bodies. On the stage, Solaris smiled, relieved, as he continued through the song. When the last beat echoed throughout the room, the whole entire auditorium erupted in applause.

Slowly, the band got off of the stage, receiving several enthusiastic pat on the backs. When Solaris finally managed to get back to his boyfriend, he was not prepared to receive the kiss of a life time from Harry.

"You were bloody brilliant," Harry told him, grinning from ear to ear. Solaris smirked at him and leaned down to press one more kiss on his lips.

"Why, thank you," he said. Harry laughed and pulled him forward, getting Solaris to join a conversation between Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

For the rest of the night, they talked and laughed, demanding that Solaris do one more hit song before the end of the night.

Overall, the day was quite… magical.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **HPFC 2016: School Tournament Competition – School: Durmstrang Institute – Muggle AU! – Rockstar AU!**

 **Yearlong Scavenger Hunt: C:20 – 16. Write about a parent or guardian or teenager.**

 **200 Characters, 200 Days – Luna Lovegood**

 **September Back to School Event: 28. (Object) Quill and Ink, 57. (Location) Hogsmeade.**

 **September Word Count: 1,087**


	171. Drabble 171: MarvoloMerope

**Title: A Father's Twisted Love**

 **Pairing: Marvolo x Merope (Platonic)**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Status: Complete**

 **Word Count: 1,207**

 **Written for: Quidditch League - Round 12 - Keeper - Wimbourne Wasps - A fluffy, slice of life for the Gaunt family.**

 **Warnings: Mentions abuse, is NOT as creepy as it sounds, and features a loving Marvolo.**

 **Summary: Father loves me. He's** _ **always**_ **loved me. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he'll act on that love.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

" _Love is love – no matter how twisted it comes across."_

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Insanity.

By definition, insanity is a condition in which a person exhibits extreme foolishness or irrationality.

I wonder, are we insane? Everyone in the village says we are.

"The people on the hill," they whispered, ignorant of the fact that I was listening. "Absolutely mad, I tell you."

Are we mad? Are we insane? Is there something wrong with us?

I can't tell.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Darkness encases our room, broken only by the moonlight streaming in from the window. Across the room, my brother and father are fast asleep, their chests rising and falling peacefully. I can't sleep, though. My mind is swirling, deep in thought. My life is becoming more and more miserable.

Father's becoming more unstable. He's losing himself… Just this morning, he had taken one look at me and screamed, demanding that I leave. While this is nothing new, he kept calling me a Muggle—kept saying that I _wasn't_ his daughter.

Even now, I can remember the tears that burned in my eyes, remember the hot white fear that raced through my veins when he drew his wand, remember the relief I felt when he passed out…

Father's slowly becoming someone else. What can I do? Can I do _anything_? Is Father only able to fix this on his own?

The thoughts run through my head, pushing me further and further into despair with every second.

Tears burn in my eyes, and I feel one fall down my cheek.

I don't want Father to have to deal with this on his own. Family has to stick together, right?

Before I can think further, my bed dips slightly as Father settles himself on it. He takes one look at me, his bright brown eyes staring intensely into mine, and leans down to lightly kiss my cheek. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he brushes away my tears with his hand, smiling softly at the shocked face I make.

"My beautiful little girl," he whispers reverently, stroking my cheek. I look at him, my eyes wide. I'm sure I look unattractive with my mouth gaping obscenely, but I can't help it.

"Don't cry, sweetie," he continues, when I say nothing. His words force me out of my stupor, and I close my mouth abruptly.

Oh.

It's going to be one of those nights, huh?

"Father?" I ask, voice soft. He hums lowly, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

"Yes?"

"Are we going to be okay?"

At the question, he pulls me to him, forcing me to lean on him.

"We're going to be fine, pumpkin."

I don't say anything else. I don't need to. Gently, he combs his hand through my hair, and I can't help but feel warm inside.

Nights like tonight only happen once in awhile. Father, so caught up in his own madness, would eventually snap out of it. Rather than being the angry, greedy man I knew, he'd become loving. In these moments, I'd become his princess; the one person in the world that he loved more than anything.

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to enjoy his embrace.

I only have one day. This time tomorrow night, he'll snap back into his ways…

For this one day, I'll allow myself to fall to his charms.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

My eyes fluttering open, I smile slightly when I notice that I'm clutched protectively to my father's chest. From across the room, Morfin stares at us, irritation bubbling in his gaze. He hates days like this, hates when Father obviously dotes on me.

I smirk, sticking my tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and growls threateningly, but I don't care. He can't ruin my mood. I'm simply too happy.

Shifting slightly, I allow my gaze to travel towards the face of my father. His dark hair is ruffled and his eyes are closed. His pale skin glows in the light provided by the sun. He looks peaceful for a change.

If only he could be like this all the time.

"Lovely?" he asks sleepily, peeking one brown eye open. I startle, a blush immediately coming to my face.

"Good morning," I say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He smiles at me happily, reaching up sluggishly to pat my head.

"Are you hungry?" he questions. When I nod, he gets up. His gaze connects with Morfin's and he waves happily.

"Morning, son."

When Morfin doesn't reply, he simply shakes his head in exasperation and heads out of the room.

"He's not going to stay like this, you know," Morfin taunts, rising from his bed. I know that, but I won't tell him.

"Are you angry?" I ask calmly. "Daddy won't pay attention to his son anymore. How sad."

He snarls at me, no doubt ready to pull out his wand and hex me, but I don't give him the time. Instead, I head out of the room, off to find Father.

Today is going to be a good day.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

As it turns out, the day turned out amazing. After a wonderful breakfast of pancakes and sausages, Father had taken me into town. We had ignored all of the gawking villagers and went shopping for supplies. We spent the whole day together, laughing and smiling.

When night finally came, I was in tears.

"I don't want you to go," I confide, burying my face in Father's chest. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Shh," Father tells me, attempting to console me. He pulls me closer to him, wiping my tears away. "I'm not going anywhere."

I don't have the heart to tell him the truth, don't have the heart to tell him that he's going to become mean and spiteful. Instead, I burrow closer to him, trying to imprint his scent into my memory.

"I love you," I whisper when the clock strikes eleven fifty-nine. "I love you so much, Father."

"I love you, too," he mumbles. Soon after, I hear him snore. A small tear falls down my cheek.

This is the end.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

A plate smashes against the wall…

Tears fall from my eyes…

Father's back home.


	172. Drabble 172: MerlinGellert

**Title: Only For You**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Merlin x Gellert**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Gellert kneels before the door, his weight mainly resting on his haunches. Head bowed in submission, he waits, breathless, for his lover to get home. Time passes slowly, and he can already feel his muscles ache in protest. He needs to get up–needs to stretch, but he won't.

Not until Merlin returns.

He continues to kneel, doing his best to ignore the pain that is slowly spreading over his whole body. Finally, when he feels like he's about to tumble to the floor, he hears footsteps approaching their apartment. Hope blossoming in his chest, he forces himself to endure the pain.

The footsteps come to a stop, and Gellert can imagine the pale hand that reaches out to grasp the door knob. Ever so slowly, it turns, opening to reveal his lover.

Merlin stands above him, his eyes wide as they take in the man who kneels before him. Hesitantly, the warlock reaches out to cup Gellert's cheek, breathing in sharply when the younger man playfully nuzzles his hand.

"Beautiful," the wizened wizard mumbles before pulling back. Gellert purrs slightly at the praise, happy that he's managed to shock the other man to the point of disbelief. "Absolutely stunning."

Leaning forward, the normally prideful wizard lightly pushes against the other's leg, smiling slightly at the breathy laugh he gets in return.

"Fine, let's go, Princess."

It is meant to be a jab; however, upon hearing the sharp exhale his lover makes, Merlin can't help but grin in excitement.

This is going to be fun.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Back to School Event - Prompts 6 and 11 - (Word) Princess, (Emotion) Excited.**

 **September Word Count: 255**


	173. Drabble 173: SiriusNarcissa

**Title: Dangerous Desires**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Sirius/Narcissa**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

It's dangerous, the game they play. One wrong move and its game over. They'd never see each other again, never get the chance to feel alive once more.

Sirius and Narcissa know this. They both know that, sooner or later, they will be separated. Even then, they can't bring themselves to care. The game is enticing and fun; no matter what they want, they are bound by sheer desire.

They are trapped, but they don't resent it.

"Would you like this dance, Milady?" Sirius asks sweetly, extending his arm. Smiling dangerously, Narcissa gratefully accepts his proposal, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. Once there, they commence to dance, the familiar motions of the waltz washing over them.

"You look beautiful," Sirius whispers, assisting her with a flawless turn.

"You look dashing," Narcissa returns, allowing him to pull her to him. When she's almost flush against him, she winks coyly, her hand briefly moving from his waist to the top of his butt. "Especially here."

Sirius growls low in his throat. Even then, he can't help but shake his head fondly.

"You're going to be the death of me," he remarks.

"If I am," Narcissa begins, "At least, I'd get to spend my future working towards it."

"Naughty," Sirius chimes. "Absolutely horrible of you."

"Oh, sweetie," Narcissa says, smirking. "If you think this is horrible, wait until you see me trying to be mean."

The two continue to dance, utterly oblivious to the scheming couple dancing next to them. In the female's hand, a voice recorder lay.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Back to School Event - Prompts 2 and 9 - (Word) Mean, (Word) Future.**

 **Weekly Pairings Drabble Competition - Sirius Black x Narcissa Malfoy**

 **September Word Count: 259**


	174. Drabble 174: DracoHarry

**Title: Irritation**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing:** **Draco/Harry**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

Hermione sits on the couch of their shared apartment, drumming her fingers along the soft material. Bored, she watches as Harry walks through the door, slamming it closed in the process.

The raven's hair is in a complete disarray, dark bags hanging from his eyes. His shirt is sloppily buttoned up, and his pants have mud stains on it.

"You look like hell," she comments nonchalantly, watching in faint amusement as he turns to glare at her.

"Yeah? I just got back," he snaps, rushing towards the kitchen. She follows him at a sedate pace, already used to such behavior from Harry. Said boy makes his way to the coffee maker, outright snarling when he finds it empty.

"Why is there no coffee left?" he asks, staring at her with accusing eyes. "Coffee is a basic human right."

"It is," Hermione agrees, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I found it empty."

Harry immediately looks away, feigning innocence.

"Must've been Ron," he says softly. It wasn't. They both knew that the red-head hadn't been home in weeks.

"Anyways," Hermione says sternly, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction. "What has you so irritated?"

"Draco," Harry growls. Sighing, Hermione nods briefly. The two idiots had become friends after the war, but even that hadn't managed to stop them from fighting. Although, if you asked Hermione, the arguments were confessions in disguise. The two prats didn't know how to confess to one another.

"What did he do, this time?" she asks softly. Without further ado, Harry launches into his story, his hands moving wildly. Fondly, Hermione sighs. Despite the irritation he causes her, she loves him too much to really care.

"You're an idiot," she remarks tenderly. Harry merely smiles at her.

Yes, an idiot, indeed.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **September Back to School Event - Prompts 36 and 53 - "You look like hell." / "Yeah? I just got back." - "Why is there no coffee left? Coffee is a basic human right."**

 **September Word Count: 300**


	175. Drabble 175: RowenaHelga

**Title: Shroud of Loneliness**

 **Pairing: Rowena Ravenclaw x Helga Hufflepuff**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Author's Note: Written for Round 13 of Quidditch League. Firediva0 - Keeper of the Wimbourne Wasps - Ravenclaw's Diadem (Season 2, Round 7).**

 **Warnings: Established relationship, alternate universe/reality, suicidal thoughts and actions.**

 **Summary: As it was a gift from her lover, Rowena treasures her Diadem. What happens; however, when it's taken by her daughter?**

* * *

~o-O-o~

* * *

The moon shines brightly in the sky, bathing the Astronomy Tower in a light blue hue. Beneath the stars, two figures lie on a blanket, their fingers intertwined.

"I would have never thought," Rowena begins, a smile curling along the edges of her lips, "that we would make it this far."

"Neither did I," Helga confides, smiling. "Can you believe that it's been ten years, already?"

"No," Rowena replies with a laugh. "When we started Hogwarts, I didn't dare think that it would blow up quite like this."

"Yes," Helga says softly. "At this point, I think even Salazar is frothing at the mouth in disbelief."

"We've made it, though," Rowena cuts in tenderly. "We have to have done something right."

"Indeed," Helga hums. "I just can't believe that it's been ten years."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the green-eyed witch reaches out. Gently, she cups the other woman's cheek, smiling softly when tender blue eyes look into her own.

"Happy birthday," Helga whispers, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lover's lips. Rowena grins, pleasantly surprised.

"Thank you," she intones, reaching up to lightly grasp Helga's chocolate locks within her fingers when she attempts to pull back. Eyes gleaming, she leans in and places her own kiss on her lover's mouth, humming slightly at the sweet taste she encounters.

"Delicious," she mumbles, pulling back after a while. A bright pink hue covers Helga's cheeks, but she says nothing. Instead, she leans over to pick up a blue package that sits beside her. She passes it to Rowena hesitantly, her hands twitching slightly in nervousness.

Rowena smiles at her encouragingly and opens the present with confident hands. When the package is opened, the blue-eyed witch can't help but gasp, her hand lightly covering her mouth. Reverently, she pulls out the beautiful adornment that lays inside the box.

Atop a tiara, an eagle sits. Its wings are covered in dozens of silver diamonds, making it practically come alive under the light of the stars. A bright blue crystal lays in the middle, its deep color drawing her attention almost immediately.

"It's magnificent," she breathes, looking up in shock. Helga watches her, a fond smile curling along her lips.

"I'm happy you like it," she says. Rowena can't help herself. She leans forward, smashing their lips together in happiness.

"I love it," she gently corrects. "It's perfect."

She moves to hug Helga, both of their gazes travelling back to the sky. They're not sure how long they sit there, holding one another, but when they finally leave, the sun is just beginning to rise in the sky.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Ever since that night, Rowena has worked tirelessly to enhance her new diadem. She wants it to become an important trinket in history, so that no one will forget their love. Helga fully supports her. The petite witch even helps carry Rowena to bed when she accidentally falls asleep in the library.

Their days are long and harsh, but it's completely worth it. On the day she finally makes a breakthrough, Rowena can't help but jump up and down in happiness. _Besides_ , she reasons with herself, _it's not like anyone is-_

"Rowena?"

Immediately, the witch stills, her cheeks erupting in red. She turns to find Salazar standing at the door, a knowing smirk plastered on his lips.

"Are you in need of my presence?" she asks, hoping that she sounds natural. Going by the slight tilt of Salazar's head, she's failed miserably.

"Helga asked me to check on you," he tells her, dry amusement coloring his tone. "She didn't tell me that you'd be jumping around in excitement, though."

"Silence," the women orders briskly, glaring at the other wizard. "You saw nothing."

Salazar merely laughs and turns on his heel.

"Sure," he tells her quietly. "I haven't _seen_ anything. _Recorded_ , on the other hand…"

"So help me Merlin, if you _dare_ write something about this…" Rowena threatens lowly. She takes an almost sadistic kind of pleasure at the slightly ashen hue that takes over Salazar's cheeks.

"I thought so," she says, a smug smirk curling along her lips. Salazar simply huffs and walks out. Behind him, Rowena can't help but chuckle in amusement. So far, her day was going great. The only thing that could make it better would be Helga.

Speaking of…

Rowena turns to leave the room, her diadem clutched protectively in her fingers.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Horrible and desolate loneliness…

Helena's sick of it. She doesn't want to feel like this anymore, doesn't want to feel _hated_. Her mother is lucky. Oh, so, so, lucky. She has a lover that adores her, a student body that envies her, friends that need her…

What does Helena have?

She has nothing…

" _Haven't you heard?" a girl asks, one day._

" _About what?" her friend questions._

" _The diadem," the girl helpfully supplies. "They say it's supposed to enhance the wisdom of the wearer."_

" _No way," her friend denies, shaking her head stubbornly. "That's impossible."_

" _Have you forgotten?" the girl asks, her eyebrows raised in disappointment. "This is Rowena Ravenclaw we're talking about. Nothing is impossible for her."_

…Yet her mother has it all. If the diadem could truly enhance the wisdom of the wearer, does that mean it could help her become someone more important? Does that mean she won't have to feel lonely anymore?

Rowena doesn't need it. She has a lover, has _friends_.

 _I'm sure you'll understand;_ Helena thinks to herself silently. The unspoken, "I hope you do," lingers in the air.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Gone – Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone!

Rowena searches her room frantically, her blue eyes blown wide in fear. Where could her diadem have gone? The proceeding night, she had placed it on her dresser. She had been sure that it had been there when she fell asleep.

She spends her whole day inside her room, searching over and over again. Unknown to her, Helena sits in the Great Hall, looking around anxiously for her mother.

Rowena never comes.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Weeks have passed since that fateful day. Much to the worry of everyone around her, Rowena never leaves her chambers. She searches fruitlessly for her diadem, refusing everyone who desires entrance to her chambers. Even Helga, her dearly beloved, is not allowed entrance.

Helena, so overcome with guilt, comes to take the diadem back to her mother months later. It has done her no good, so she believes that she can part with it. However, upon knocking on her mother's door, she is unprepared for the starved woman that meets her.

Rowena's hair, once long and sleek, is now limp. Her clothes, which were once pristine, are now haphazardly done. Her skin is slightly ashen and her eyes appear dead to the world.

Helena hands her the diadem and watches through sorrow-filled eyes as her mother slowly reaches out for it. Blue eyes regard it in disbelief before a hint of a smile finally passes over chapped lips.

"I've found you," Rowena breathes. Helena's heart breaks further.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

The very next day, much to the sadness of everyone around her, Rowena passes away in her sleep. Apparently, amidst her worry for the diadem, Rowena forgot to consume anything. Her body, unable to adjust to the horrendous lack of energy, completely gave in. Now, Rowena lie in a coffin, her body cold to the touch. Helga clutches her hand fruitlessly, begging for her to come back, yet she doesn't.

Rowena Ravenclaw is dead.

Helena Ravenclaw lives on, maddening guilt threatening to overwhelm her, and, in the shadows, the Bloody Baron lies.

The only one to know the truth of what happened, he is not surprised when, two days later, the younger girl is found, hung inside of the common room of Ravenclaw Tower. Besides her body is a note.

" _That, which has died, cannot be regained. One never knows true loneliness until you mourn the person you loved the most."_

No one understands why she died; no one cares enough to search for the reason _why_ she wrote what she did. However, in spite of that, the Bloody Baron pledges to watch over her lonely spirit.

* * *

 **End.**

 **Word Count: 1,353**

 **Note: Thank you to my wonderful betas, Kefallion and 3cheersforidiots. I love you guys and appreciate what you do!**


	176. Drabble 176: LuciusSeverus

**Title: Destroyed By Love**

 **Pairing: Lucius x Severus**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Alternate Reality.**

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

Having heard of the events that transpired during lunch, Lucius walks cautiously into the dorm he shares with Severus. The young Slytherin sits on his bed, his face buried in his pillow. Lucius exhales slowly, hot white relief flooding through his veins. From what he had heard, Lily had shown the boy no mercy.

Apparently, she saw fit to publicly reject the young Slytherin, severing their friendship immediately. If his friends were to be believed, the young lioness had even insulted him, saying that she was only friends with him out of pity. Severus, however, isn't one to easily be denied. No doubt, he fought tooth and nail to make her see reason. Lily, unfortunately, didn't want to hear it. After humiliating him, she allegedly turned to Potter and kissed him on the cheek, much to the horror of everyone around her.

Everyone knew Lily Evans hated James Potter. Everyone knew Severus Snape loved Lily Evans. Everyone knew Severus Snape hated James Potter. For her, his supposed best friend, to dare kiss the lad, in front of him no less, was an act that no one could believe.

After she had done that, the damage had been done. Severus, not a man to allow himself to be pitied, fled the scene, his cloak billowing angrily behind him. It was only mere minutes after that Lucius had been summoned by his confidante, Narcissa Malfoy, to be told the news.

Now, the tall Slytherin watches the boy on the bed in trepidation. Severus pays him no heed, though. The boy continues to smother himself with the pillow, suspiciously silent.

No one should be that silent. _Especially,_ when humiliated in such a way. Moving forward, Lucius gently grasps oily black locks.

Lily Evans had obviously destroyed him. The normally snarky teen was nowhere to be found. In his place, a slightly subservient version resides. The poor boy won't even lift his head.

How perfect.

"Severus," he whispers. The boy doesn't respond. He continues to breathe silently into the pillow. Annoyed, Lucius gently tugs on the hair in his hands, smiling slightly when the other releases a slight whine. "Don't ignore me."

"I'm not," Severus responds, voice muffled.

"Don't lie to me," Lucius says chidingly, tugging on the other boy's hair. Severus huffs in discontent, but finally sits up.

"What are you doing here?" he questions softly. Lucius frowns.

"Checking on you, of course," he tells him. Severus rolls his eyes.

"I don't need you," he says sternly.

"Oh, but you do," Lucius corrects him. "Perhaps, more than you'll ever know."

"Shut up, will you? No one needs your dramatics," Severus says. Onyx eyes stare into Lucius' own, practically daring him to refute him, but Lucius makes no attempts to do so. Rather, he releases Severus' hair and instead pulls the boy closer, forcing him to lay flush against him.

"I'm not a child," Severus rushes to say, but Lucius ignores him.

"Shut up and rest," he tells him sternly. Severus glares at him, but makes no attempt to fight the older boy. It would be pointless, after all.

The two lay there for hours, oblivious to everything else within the castle. Lily Evans may have destroyed Severus, but Lucius would fix him. Of that, he was sure.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Pairing the Character: Drabble Competition – Week 20: Lucius Malfoy.**

 **Crystals. Gemstones, and Astrology Challenge - Week 3 - Ametrine (Basic) Write about overcoming a troubled period of time.**

 **200 Characters, 200 Days – 29. Lucius Malfoy**

 **24 Hours Competition – "What are you doing here?"**

 **October Word Count: 544**


	177. Drabble 177: RodolphusBellatrix

**Title: Learning to Forget**

 **Pairing: Rodolphus x Bellatrix, Voldemort x Bellatrix**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Infidelity.**

 **Summary: Moans flow from the bedroom and loud thumping reaches his ears. Throughout it, Rodolphus stays in his room, nursing his ears. This isn't happening. It _can't_ be happening. However, on Halloween night, when a child slips through his beloved's body, he's faced with an awful truth.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

In the dark, it's easy.

All Rodolphus has to do is press his hands against his head, forcing his ears down in the process. For a moment, one glorious moment, he can pretend that his wife isn't in the other room, their bed thumping loudly against the wall.

He doesn't have to face the harsh reality that Bellatrix is begging for more, chanting another man's name. He doesn't have to feel betrayal burning through his veins, seeming to burn him alive. He doesn't have to see her face slack in pleasure, her body arched into another man's frame.

He's safe.

For one glorious moment, he is safe.

Unfortunately, moments like that don't last.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Bellatrix screams, the sound bouncing off of the hospital's walls. Healers are running around, barking out orders viciously, yet Rodolphus can't pay attention to them.

His mind is blank; a white shroud seeming to have enveloped it. He can't think, can't _move_ , and all he can do is stare at two white hospital doors.

A woman comes to him, telling him that he should enter, yet he doesn't. He doesn't even acknowledge her. Bellatrix's screams are ringing in his ears.

"Push!" someone yells. A breathy scream follows the statement, and Rodolphus can feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest. It's detached, though; almost non-existent, but he can feel it. His blood slowly rushes through his veins, a scorching feeling beginning to take hold of him.

His hands move to his head on autopilot, flattening his ears.

"No," he whispers. He wants to block out the screams, wants to be free from the _truth_ , yet freedom evades him.

A scream.

Silence.

A wail.

"It's over…"

Immediately, memories come to the forefront of his brain, forcing him to his knees. Crimson eyes gleaming in malice, breathy moans pouring from the bedroom, violent arguments...

Amidst his crisis, the wailing grows louder.

"It's a boy," someone whispers.

"7:31 PM, October 31st, 1974," a person helpfully supplies.

His entire world comes crashing down.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **200 Characters, 200 Days – 54. Rodolphus Lestrange.**

 **In 24 Hours Challenge – Late Night**

 **October Event: Halloween Bingo – 12. (scenario) A baby being born on Halloween.**

 **Chapter Titles Challenge – 42. Learning to Forget**

 **October Word Count: 333**


	178. Drabble 178: TomHarry

**Title: Conflict of Love and Duty**

 **Pairing: Lord Voldemort x Harry Potter, Tom Riddle x Harry Potter.**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Established Relationship, mentioned sexual content, forbidden relationship, relationship between a minor and an adult.**

 **Summary: It was a desire – one that neither of them wanted. Stuck between loving and hating one another, Voldemort and Harry must make a decision quick. For, one wrong move, and one of them may die…**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Harry doesn't love Voldemort. The feelings he has for the man aren't as pure as that. No, he _desires_ the man. He craves the other for his thoughts, for his mind, for his intellect. Craves him for his determination and his sheer _will_. He doesn't love him, though. Love requires adoration. Love requires _positivity_.

Harry has nothing of the sort.

What he feels is _infatuation_. He's _obsessed_ with the man. He wants to know more about him, wants to feel more of that hard body pressed against his, desires to see the pure _power_ that explodes behind crimson eyes. Even more than that, he craves to see the true knowledge that the man possesses – wants to see him _completely._

To Harry, love is an illusion. It blinds you; it makes you want to see more of what _you_ want to see – not what's necessarily there.

No, what he feels for Voldemort isn't love. Hell, it may not even be _admiration_. He simply knows that he wants more, that he _needs_ it.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

A hard body pushes him against the wall, lips crashing against his own forcibly. Harry doesn't fight. Rather, he arches into the rough touch, raising his arm to yank at black hair.

"Mine," the other growls, biting Harry's lips. In return, Harry bites the others – hard.

"Don't forget," he pants, pulling away minutely. He looks right into gray eyes. "You're mine as well."

At the declaration, the other man smirks, leaning down to nip harshly at the younger boy's throat.

"You want to own me?" the man purrs, his voice husky. Harry nods briskly, moaning when a tongue sneaks out to lap at his adam's apple.

"Mine," Harry repeats roughly. Yanking the other's hair again, he smirks when the man releases a faint hiss. "Don't forget that, Tom."

"Hmm," Tom whispers. "You can possess me; however, Voldemort, on the other hand…"

"He's mine," Harry corrects. "He just doesn't know it, yet."

"We'll see about that, Little Potter," the gray-eyed man hums. Eyes brightening, he leans down to crash their lips together again. "Now, less talking, more kissing."

Tom applies a steady pressure to Harry's lips, forcing him to fall onto the desk behind him. The younger man has no complaints, though. He merely rolls his eyes and kisses the other man reverently, possession clear in his mind.

Tom is his…

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"What is this?" Harry asks quietly, looking over his shoulder. Tom hums in his ear, his arms snaking around the younger boy's lithe waist.

"The future," he tells him. "A version of it, anyway."

"How exactly did you acquire this?" Harry asks skeptically, eyebrow raised. Tom smiles, his gray eyes gleaming in delight.

"You don't want to know," he answers cryptically. Scowling, Harry looks into the blue orb before him, his eyes narrowing slightly. Within it, there's a battlefield. Corpses cover the ground, blood staining their torn clothes. Voldemort stands on top of the bodies, his wand held protectively within his enemy, Albus Dumbledore's, hand.

 _"You've lost, Riddle," Dumbledore snarls. Voldemort stares at him, an infuriating smirk covering his visage._

 _"Have I?" he questions. Dumbledore smiles at him pitifully._

 _"Your Death Eaters are dead," he tells him, "and I have your wand. You have no chance."_

 _"I wouldn't count on that," the red-eyed man answers._

 _"If you're talking about young Mister Potter," Dumbledore begins, "he was the first to fall."_

 _The wizened wizard gestures to the other side of the battlefield. Harry lays on the ground, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. A large gash covers his left side, blood pouring from it profusely. Upon seeing the young boy, Voldemort isn't able to hide the frown that etches itself across his lips._

 _"You're lying, old man," he retorts furiously. This time, Dumbledore smirks._

 _"I don't lie, Tom," the man says. "You could have been just like me, had you not given in to temptation."_

 _"Temptation?" Voldemort asks, enraged. "Quit the dramatics. I wanted to become who I am. Don't take me for a fool."_

 _"I'll release you from its vile claws," Dumbledore continues, ignoring his enraged former pupil. With a pitiful grin, he raises his wand and fires off a familiar green light, watching with sad eyes as Voldemort falls to the ground, dead._

 _"Good bye, Tom."_

With his words, the bright orb slowly darkens. Now that it's off, Harry turns to Tom.

"Why'd you show me this?" he questions.

"Because," Tom answers. "If things continue the way they are, you will both die. You need to make a choice, Harry."

"What choice?" the green-eyed boy asks, eyebrows narrowing. Tom wouldn't have brought this up if it wasn't important.

"You need to die," he states simply. At the statement, Harry's mouth opens soundlessly, his eyes wide in surprise.

"What?" he asks dumbly. Tom raises an eyebrow.

"You need to die," he says again, more slowly. "As it is, Dumbledore will discover that you are working in collaboration with my counterpart."

"We aren't, though," Harry says.

"Not yet," Tom corrects, leaning in to bite his ear. Harry fights through the delicious pain, attempting to focus.

"Why do I need to die, though? Isn't there other ways?"

"You don't have to literally die," Tom tells him. "You just have to fake your death. Then, you can work with Voldemort independently."

"People will recognize me," Harry cautions. "I don't exactly blend in."

The boy gestures to his short frame, green eyes, and his lightning bolt, one eyebrow raised.

"It'll be fine," Tom soothes him, reaching over to yank at his cheek. Harry glares at him, but sighs.

"Fine," he tells him, "but you have to be the one that 'kills' me."

"Shall you die because of pleasure?" Tom asks, humming. His hand slowly inches towards Harry's trousers, a smirk curling along the edges of his lips. Harry moans when the pale hand touches his hardness, arching into the man's touch.

"Tom," he says pleadingly. The other man hums, pressing an uncharacteristically soothing kiss on his neck.

"Don't fret," the other man whispers. "I'll make sure you die gracefully."

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **In 24 Hours Competition – Desk.**

 **Chapter Titles Competition – 90. Conflict of Love and Duty**

 **October Event – Survive A Horror Movie – Write about a character in between a rock and a hard place. (Interpret as you wish) Mental Processes: Trapped to stuck to tough decision to love v. hate. v. desire v. infatuation to Tom Riddle to counterpart Voldemort to Harry Potter. (Don't even ask how): p**

 **October Word Count: 1,011**


	179. Drabble 179: LilySeverus

**Title: Shattered**

 **Pairing: Lily x Severus**

 **Rating: Mature - Explicit**

 **Warning: Suicide.**

 **Summary: Love; what a foolish notion.**

* * *

 **Severus Snape's POV**

* * *

All my life, I've been told, "You're young now, but, one day, you will understand the concept of love, boy. You'll understand how, when in the face of it, even the strongest of men will crumble." Everyone thinks I have no heart, have no _soul_ , but that's not true. I have a heart. I have a soul. I love a _person_.

They just don't love me.

What is love, though? Is love a mere figment of our imagination? Do we say we _love_ each other in an effort to not be alone?

When I ask these questions, I'm always told one thing: Love is a feeling of warmth - something you'll know of as soon as it wishes to be known. That it's just _there_. That I shouldn't question it…

I never listened. Whenever someone would tell me that, I'd roll my eyes and think them fools. If only I had known; if only I had paid _attention_.

Alas, I did not, and I don't know what to do.

A crimson haired beauty rests in front of me, her hair flowing lightly in the small breeze around us. Gleaming jade eyes look into my onyx ones, enticing me to the point that I actually _want_ to start a conversation.

Strange…

But not unwelcome.

I open my mouth, desperately wanting to say something, but nothing comes out. She looks at me, her eyebrows raised in curiosity, but I am helpless. I can't say anything. I can only feel my throat clench, feel a small ball begin to develop at the base of it.

This can't be happening.

"Are you alright?" she asks, gently reaching out to cover my hand with her own. I gulp, nodding slowly. I don't know if it's because she realizes that I'm nervous, or if it's something else entirely, but the beauty smiles at me; the expression reminiscent of the light of a thousand suns.

"I'm Lily," she says. The ball at the base of my throat slowly eases, and I can't help the slight upturn of my lips.

"Severus," I whisper. "Severus Snape."

Words can't even begin to describe the beauty of the smile she graces me with.

* * *

Years later, Lily and I have become best friends. For a moment, I actually think that we have a chance, that Lily loves me and wants to spend forever with me.

Tch, how naive.

Before I even get the chance to confess, Lily rushes to me with a bright smile, telling me that she's finally given in. That she's fallen for _James Potter_.

At once, my world spins on its axis. I'm left standing there, my breath seeming to have stopped. I don't blink, don't _think_. All I can do is stare; all I can do is weep in the knowledge that I'll never get the forever I so desperately wanted.

Love; what a silly notion.

* * *

Ever since then, I slowly begin to stop all communication I have with Lily. I don't seek her out, nor do I look at her when she enters a room. Rather, I leave, my head held high. I ignore the pleading glances she throws me, ignore the taunts Potter and his cronies throw me.

I am not hurt, am not _dying_ on the inside. I was never in love, never _ensnared_ by her.

Everyday, I distance myself from her. When she finally resigns herself to the situation, I pretend like my heart does not hurt; that I'm not _aching_. Love is foolish; something to be envied by those who have no sense of self regard.

I am whole. I am _complete_.

...At least, that's what I tell myself.

* * *

Weeks later, when Lucius Malfoy finds me in the dorm room, a broken vial on the ground beside me, I merely grin.

"I am a whole," I whisper to him, reaching a pale hand up to cup his cheek. "Complete."

Before I close my eyes for the last time, I think I see a crystal tear slowly fall from his eyes.

* * *

 _In Memory of Severus Snape_

 _Beloved Friend and Student_

 _01-19-1960 through 02-14-1977_

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Herbology, Assignment 7 - Instead of writing for specific task this time, conjure something beautiful using words which creates a whirl of emotions in the reader's mind**

 **Writing Club - October - Title: Shattered**

 **October Word Count - 678**


	180. Drabble 180: BellatrixRita

**Title: Love in Pain**

 **Pairing: Bellatrix x Rita Skeeter**

 **Rating: Mature - Explicit**

 **Warnings: Alternate Universe, pain play.**

 **Summary: The pain was just so intense… It took all Rita had not to arch into those beautiful nails.**

* * *

Long, blonde hair lays in a halo on the bed, its pale color a stark contrast to the black bed sheets. Light, green eyes are opened blearily, staring deeply into black ones. Bellatrix Lestrange stands before the girl in all her naked glory, her dark curls falling down her back in large rings.

"Do you want me?" Bellatrix purrs, absently reaching down to scrape her nails against the other woman's stomach. Rita moans, the sound loud in the silence around them.

"Yes," she whispers breathily, staring at Bellatrix pleadingly. "Want you so much."

"Oh?" Bellatrix asks, one eyebrow arched. "Did you want me when I tortured the Longbottoms?"

"Gods, yes," Rita claims. "The picture in the newspaper - you covered in blood. Gods, how I wanted you."

"Did you want it to be your blood?" Bellatrix asks, a smirk covering her lips. Roughly, she drags her nails across the other's heated skin, grinning when she saw the skin begin to swell. Rita nods, too overcome with the wonderful sensation to actually speak.

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Bellatrix purred, leaning down until her boobs pressed against the other's chest. Her breath lightly fans against Rita's cheek, teasing the older witch relentlessly.

"Please?" Rita begs, arching up into her. Bellatrix smiles and moves to pull away, sauntering to the table on the other side of the room. Tenderly, she picks up a large knife, playfully swinging it through the air.

"Of course, my dear. I'll hurt you so nicely."

The answering moan was like music to her ears.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **October Halloween Bingo - 58 - Bellatrix x Rita**

 **Fanfiction Writing Month - October - 253**


	181. Drabble 181: RemusRabastan

**Title: Moony Knows Best**

 **Pairing: Remus Lupin x Rabastan Lestrange**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

Golden, amber eyes gaze into his own, practically daring him to move. Rabastan doesn't. Rather, he allows his body to remain still – even his breathing scarce.

"Wolf," he calls out quietly. Moony shifts on his haunches, raising his jaw threateningly. Rabastan smiles.

"Are you done?"

At once, the wolf launches itself towards the other man. He doesn't open his muzzle. Instead, he pounces on the young Lestrange, covering every inch of the pale face with small and slimy licks.

"Easy," Rabastan says, smiling. "I'm right here."

Moony whimpers in his throat, attempting to press closer to his mate. It has been too long – simply, too much time they had spent away from one another. His counterpart, Remus, is stubborn and acts as if he can't feel the strain, but Moony – Moony, knows.

They wouldn't be apart any longer; Moony wouldn't allow it.

Closing his eyes, he allows his counterpart to come to the surface. Remus hasn't seen Rabastan in months and, despite what he may say, Moony knows that his human misses the young Lestrange.

Amber eyes slowly turn a bright chocolate, the long brown fur turning into pale, smooth skin. Before Rabastan's very eyes, his lover appears in all his naked glory.

"Here," Rabastan whispers, handing the other man his jacket. Remus smiles at him gratefully, but doesn't move to take it. Rather, he pulls the other man to him, wrapping strong, lean arms around the man's lithe body.

"Missed you," he finally says, his voice raspy. Rabastan smiles – the expression reminiscent of the light of a thousand suns, and leans in to kiss Remus full on the lips.

"Missed you, too, Wolf."

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Ice Cream Factory Challenge - Chocolate Chip and Black Cherry - Rabastan x Remus.**

 **200 Characters in 200 Days - Rabastan Lestrange.**

 **Word Count: 274**


	182. Drabble 182: BlaiseHarry

**Title: Beware the Black Widow's Son**

 **Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature – Explicit**

 **Word Count: 2,172**

 **Written for Herbology Assignment 1: Write about a character being extremely possessive of another one. Your story must feature your character escaping or being freed.**

 **Warnings: Rape mentioned, character death, alternate universe.**

 **Summary: In the shadows of his mother's legacy, Blaise Zabini lies in wait.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

At first, Harry hadn't realized what was happening. At the time, he had liked the whispered orders in his ears, had liked the fact that he didn't need to take control in their relationship.

Blaise truly was his prince in shining armor. The dark-skinned man would always tell him how much he loved him, even going so far as to chant it as they made sweet, sweet love.

For the longest, everything had been perfect between them. Harry could have easily seen himself being with Blaise forever.

However, like all good things, it had to come to an end.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

" _Harry,"_ Blaise whispered, the name filled with barely suppressed rage. Said boy looked up, his bright emerald eyes meeting dark brown ones.

"Yes?" he asked. Blaise looked at him, giving him _that_ look. It was the one Blaise used whenever Harry displeased him.

"Didn't I say you couldn't go?" the Italian questioned, one eyebrow raised. Harry looked at his boyfriend, a startled laugh ripping itself out of his throat.

"Since when do I need your permission?" he asked, shocked. Blaise didn't waver. If anything, he stood up straighter.

"Since we got into this relationship," he smoothly retorted, shrugging his shoulders. Harry stared at him, righteous anger beginning to stir inside his chest.

"You're my _boyfriend_ ," Harry said, making sure to stress the word. "You're not my mother."

"I'm not," Blaise conceded. Even then, the dark look in his eyes didn't leave. "Despite that, it's my job to make sure that you stay out of trouble and _Weasley?_ Weasley is trouble."

"He's my best friend!" Harry protested, finally fed up with his boyfriend's crap. "Why would he harm me?"

"Other than the fact that he's jealous of you?" Blaise asked. It seemed as if he was determined to stay calm and patronizing. The Italian acted like he was talking to a child with his raised eyebrow and condescending tone.

"He's not jealous of me," Harry said, averting his eyes. Blaise merely scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You know what? I'll forgive you this once. Next time, though? Next time you heed my warning."

"Screw you, Blaise," Harry said, his anger finally bubbling over. He couldn't believe the audacity of his boyfriend, couldn't believe that Blaise would try to tell him what to do.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Harry cursed silently to himself. He loved Blaise, but the other boy was seriously crossing the line. Knowing that he'd say something he'd regret if he stuck around, Harry turned around and stormed out of the room, ignoring the intense gaze on his back.

He was pissed off, and he'd be _damned_ if he let Blaise make him feel guilty.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

It had been a week since their fight. Harry had been angrier than ever. In fact, his friends made it a point to _avoid_ him. With his already short temper being lowered substantially, Harry was a ticking time bomb.

It had only been sheer luck that Harry had went back to the dorm to retrieve a textbook he had forgotten. He had been shocked, almost to the point of death, when he saw Blaise sitting on his bed, a box of chocolates clutched tightly in his hands.

"I'm sorry," the Italian offered, handing him the chocolates. Brown eyes peered into Harry's green ones, despair radiating off them. "Forgive me?"

Harry couldn't stop his heart from melting. He launched forward, pulling Blaise close.

"Of course," he whispered, despite the voice in the back of his head. It was telling him that he was giving in to easily, that he should make Blaise _work_ for it. Those thoughts all but died in the face of the suave Italian.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"You're not afraid?" Ginny asked one day, her sparkling blue eyes looking at him in fascination. Harry shook his head, confused.

"Why would I be afraid?" he questioned. Ginny nodded towards Blaise, her eyes trailing over the Slytherin from across the room.

"He's _her_ son. You're not afraid that you're not the beginning of his trysts?"

"No," Harry responded, shaking his head. "Blaise loves me. He's not like his mother."

"What if he's worst?" Ginny asked him, one eyebrow raised. "What if he's something that we've never seen?"

"He's not, Ginny," Harry told her resolutely. "Blaise is kind and sweet. There's no way that he'd do that to me."

"You think so?" she asked, her eyes not leaving the other man. "I hope that's the case…"

Harry couldn't deny the faint sense of foreboding that stirred within his stomach. Casting one last glance at his boyfriend, Harry stood up and excused himself. There's something about what Ginny said, something that _bothered_ him.

The feeling stayed with him for most of the day. However, once Blaise swept into the room and kissed him chastely, the feeling was all but forgotten.

Unknown to him, Ginny watched them from the shadows, her gaze calculating.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

The next incident occurred six months after Harry's talk with Ginny. The young boy had been sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, talking animatedly with Ron and Hermione. Everything had been going perfectly until Blaise had stood up from his spot at his table and made his way over to him, his eyes narrowed in anger.

Without a word, the normally calm Slytherin sat right next to Harry and wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, pulling him closer until he was almost pressed flush against him. The message was clear; especially when he glared at Ron.

"What?" Blaise asked, looking at the red-head, who was gaping, with a faint sneer. "Close your mouth, Weasley. The image of you mid-chew is one I can do without."

Ron's mouth had closed abruptly, the red-head blushing at the insult. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't, in the end. He merely turned away and ate his food in silence.

At that point, Harry was pretty much fed up. He turned to Blaise, prepared to give him a piece of his mind, but found that the other Slytherin was already done with the conversation. The older boy had already began making a plate, pushing it towards Harry once it was full.

"Eat well," Blaise told him. Gently, he leaned down to press a kiss to Harry's forehead. "I'll be leaving now, _amore_."

Without missing a beat, Blaise headed to the door, ignoring all the wide-eyed looks that were sent his way. Alone, Harry looked at the door, gaping.

"That did _not_ just happen," he whispered to himself in disbelief. Hermione reached over to gently pat his arm.

"It did, Harry," she said. "It actually did."

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Despite everything, Harry was willing to stay with Blaise. After all, the boy loved him and just wanted the best for him. Harry had just written it off as a one-time occurrence. However, when this happened again and _again_ , he decided that this just wasn't healthy.

Because of that, he pulled Blaise to the side one day and told him straight.

"I can't do this anymore," he confided. "I don't like how possessive you are, Blaise. At first, it had been fun, but now? Now it's seriously starting to scare me."

"Is it wrong to be protective of the one you love?" Blaise retorted, his infuriating eyebrow raised. Harry shook his head in exasperation.

"This isn't just protecting, Blaise. This is something far worse than that."

"You're not breaking up with me, Harry," Blaise said, shaking his head. His tone had become patronizing, and it only served to infuriate Harry.

"Really?" the raven asked. "Well then, let me correct you: I'm breaking up with you, Blaise."

"No," the Italian repeated. "You don't mean that. We'll fight and we'll scream at each other, but you will never break up with me."

"I guess it's a first time for everything," Harry declared. "We're over and I can't believe you're such a conceited prick."

Blaise smirked cockily at that, as if completely ignoring what Harry said.

It pissed him off.

"Come to me when you're ready, _amore_."

With that, the dark-skinned man left, leaving Harry silently seething.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"He really said that to you? I'm so sorry, Harry," Ginny said, leaning forward to hug him. Harry hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I miss him," he told her. "I just don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I do."

"That's natural," the red-head told him, smiling down at him gently. "Stay strong, Harry. You were too good for him, anyway."

"Maybe," Harry sniffled thoughtfully. "Maybe I was…"

Harry didn't think that was the case, though. The voice in the back of his head was back. It told him how stupid he was, told him that he _deserved_ this for not listening.

Harry couldn't say it was wrong.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

True to his word, Harry had never gone back to Blaise.

A month passed by, soon followed by a year, and the young Slytherin grew impatient. If Harry would not come to him, then he would go to Harry.

Yes, that would be an excellent idea.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

When Harry had gone back to the dorms to retrieve his textbook, he had _not_ been prepared for two long arms to wrap around his waist, pulling him into a hard chest.

" _Amore,"_ the person breathed, the familiar scent of roses wafting up his nose. Harry paused, his eyes going comically wide.

"Blaise?" he asked, shocked. A warm laugh reached his ears and Blaise pulled back to show warm brown eyes.

"Why did it take you so long to come to me?" he asked. His tone was deceitfully sweet, no anger to be found. Harry looked at him warily.

"I told you," he repeated. "I broke up with you."

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"You're still going on about that," he asked in disbelief. Harry frowned at him, shaking his head in irritation.

"I'm not having this conversation, Blaise," he told him. He headed towards the door, turning the knob. "Goodbye."

Before he could walk out, those two long arms pulled him back abruptly. Harry immediately thrashed in the other's grip, but Blaise wasn't letting him go.

Two hands pushed him down on the bed, one eventually coming up to cover his mouth.

"I told you," Blaise growled menacingly. "We're not breaking up. And, since we're still together, it's perfectly okay for us to have sex."

Green eyes widened in terror, and Harry struggled more against the other. It wasn't enough, though. The Italian easily dominated him and, oblivious to the other occupants of the castle, Harry's tears and pained whimpers never ceased.

When the act was finally done, Harry looked up into the sky brokenly. Beside him, Blaise collapsed, one arm wrapped possessively around Harry's naked waist. A lone tear slowly fell down a pale cheek, the young boy mouthing the words, "Why me?"

No one answered him.

He cried harder.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

From that day, onward, Harry played the part of a porcelain doll perfectly. He stopped all attempts of refusing Blaise and did whatever the other said, even enduring several more 'consensual' sessions.

Unknown to Blaise, he was plotting against him. He wouldn't let the other boy get away with this, wouldn't let himself be shattered because of the other.

He would survive this. Of this, he would sure. Blaise wouldn't see him coming.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

…Well, that had been the plan.

Harry had finally snapped when Blaise had laid his hands on Ginny. The red-head had only wanted Harry to help her with a spell. She had no idea that Blaise would react so harshly to her. Even now, Harry could vividly recall the other man's hand slowly sailing through the air, meeting her cheek. He can remember the anger that coursed through him, can remember the overwhelming _rage_ that encased him.

What had happened next was only a blur.

One moment, he had been laying peacefully on the bed, naked. In the next, he was up, launching himself at his enemy in blind rage. He doesn't remember the words that were uttered when they made contact, doesn't remember Ginny begging him to get _off_. All he remembers are Blaise's screams and lovely flashes of crimson.

Above all of that, though, was the overwhelming sense of freedom.

"Harry," Ginny hesitantly called, approaching him cautiously. Harry smiled at her, Blaise's blood staining his cheek.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?" the girl asked. Harry smiled widely, teeth stained with scarlet being exposed.

"Ginny," he whispered reverently. "I'm _free_."

Harry had ignored her inquiring look. Rather, he looked down at the pieces of Blaise that littered the floor, his gaze one of wonder.

" _I'm seriously free."_

* * *

 _End._


	183. Drabble 183: Theodore x Harry

**Title: Hold You Close**

 **Pairing: Theodore Nott x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warning: Nightmares, slight spoilers.**

* * *

It's happened again.

Harry wakes with a start, his mouth opened in a silent scream. From his spot beside the raven, Theodore stirs. One blue eye opens, peering at the other in concern.

"Sirius?" the normally stoic teen asks, voice knowing. Harry nods silently, curling into a ball. With a sigh, Theodore sits up and wipes away the tears that slowly fall from Harry's eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks softly. Harry looks at him, his green eyes shining slightly in the dim light provided by the candles. Oblivious to everyone else, they're inside of Harry's dorm. The only thing hiding them from sight is the curtain hanging around the Gryffindor's bed. While Theo hates the obnoxiously loud color scheme, he puts up with it for Harry's sake.

"Not really," Harry admits, voice barely above a whisper. Theodore knows what that means. He has spent enough nights with Harry to know that it had to be about Sirius. Most likely, when the eccentric man fell through the veil.

Sighing, Theodore gently tugs Harry's arm until the other boy turns around to face him. Wrapping his arms around the raven, the Slytherin gently presses a kiss against Harry's forehead.

"I'll defeat the nightmares for you. So, just focus on going to sleep, okay?"

Harry nods, allowing himself to relax in the older boy's embrace. He's grateful for Theo, grateful for the fact that the normally nonchalant boy is so kind.

"I love you," Harry whispers.

"I love you, too," Theodore says just as quietly. Satisfied, the two lay in silence. Eventually, Harry falls asleep, but Theodore stays up longer. True to his word, he tightens his hold around the Gryffindor whenever he shifts in discomfort.

No one, not even Sirius, would ever bother Harry again, if he had any say about it.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Speed Drabble - The Golden Snitch - Theodore Nott**

 **November Word Count: 305**


	184. Drabble 184: LuciusNarcissa

**Title: The Advice of a Queen**

 **Pairing: Lucius x Narcissa**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Coauthor: Absolutefaith**

* * *

Her entire world is falling apart, but Narcissa is helpless to stop it. Lucius, her beloved fiancé, has been captivated by Lily Evans, of all people. There had been a time where Lucius had despised the other girl, where he had utterly _loathed_ just how impure her blood was. That time has passed, however. Ever since the young Malfoy had seen the red-head among a field of flowers, he had been infatuated. Naturally, the blonde didn't show it. After all, he _was_ a Malfoy. It would be simply disgusting had he shown such a vulnerable side of himself to a muggle born. Despite that, Narcissa can still tell.

Clenching her teeth, Narcissa desperately attempts to hold back her own tears. She had loved Lucius ever since they had met all those years ago. Never has she ever yearned for a man so fiercely. Never has she wanted to give herself up completely, but there was just _something_ about him that drew her in.

He intrigued her, mesmerized her, even, yet he didn't want her back. If the rumors going around Hogwarts were to be believed, he was even thinking about calling off the engagement. The very thought of it made Narcissa want to break down in tears.

"Why do you cry, child?" a voice asks. Startled, Narcissa turns. Her breath catches in her throat when she notices the portrait of Queen Mary the 1st staring at her, a curious glint within her brown eyes.

"My fiancé," Narcissa tells her, figuring she has nothing to lose. "He's in love with a Muggleborn."

"And? Aren't you going to fight back?" the Queen asks, one eyebrow raised. Narcissa looks down, a small blush coloring her cheeks.

"He loves her," she says softly, laughing mirthlessly. "I can't do that to him."

"What about you, child?" the Queen interrupts. "You are a beautiful girl. In fact, you remind me of myself at your age."

"I love him enough to want him to be happy," Narcissa tells the Queen. "Is that so bad?"

"Yes," Mary says without hesitation. "When I was younger, I thought the same thing. However, that couldn't be farther away from the truth. You're not giving yourself enough credit. In your heart, don't you think he'd be happier with you?"

"I do," Narcissa concedes, finally looking up to meet her gaze.

"Then, own it," Mary orders. "When I was younger, I was an all-powerful witch. Not only did I rule an entire continent, but I did whatever I wanted. Using my power, I had even helped to make several advances to the Wizarding World. That's why you see me here today. However, like all women these days, there had been a time, where I was weak; There had been a time where I allowed a man to shatter me into hundreds of pieces. I had allowed him to fall for someone else, and it was destroying me. In my rage, I had ordered for the deaths of many Protestants. Because of this, I earned the nickname, Bloody Mary. It took years for me to understand why I had changed so drastically. When I did, I fought for him. In the end, we were together and were the happiest we had ever been. Therefore, you should fight. You never know what the future may hold."

"You're right," Narcissa tells her, her eyes gleaming. "I don't know what the future is going to hold. I'm going to fight, and I'm going to destroy Lily Evans. Lucius Malfoy is mine and mine alone."

"Now, you're talking like a Queen," Mary congratulates her, smiling. Laughing, Narcissa bid her thanks and left. She had a plan to construct.

Lily Evans is going down.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Scavenger Hunt 1.0 (Written with absolutefaith)**

 **Word Count: 619**


	185. Drabble 185: ElizabethLucius

**Title: A Queen's Story**

 **Pairing: Queen Elizabeth I and Lucius Malfoy I**

 **Rating: Mature**

* * *

 _A kiss, fleeting in nature, is pressed against her collarbone. Queen Elizabeth looks at her partner from beneath her lashes, one hand slyly reaching up to twirl one of her partner's blonde locks. Lucius Malfoy the First looks upon her with fondness, one of his hands reaching up to tenderly hold her cheek._

 _"You're beautiful," he tells her. The Queen smiles, tugging at his hair playfully._

 _"As are you," she responds. Lucius grins indulgently and gently pulls her towards the bed._

 _"Alas," he whispers, leaning in for a kiss. "You are far prettier than I could ever could be."_

 _Before Queen Elizabeth can retort, she finds his lips pressing demandingly against her own. She loses herself to his taste, loses herself to the pure desire that courses through her veins. At once, they're tearing each other's clothes off, each of them desperate to see and learn more. By the end of the night, they're panting, satisfied smiles curling along the edges of their lips._

* * *

"What happens after that?" Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw, asks, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. The Queen looks at her wistfully from inside of the portrait.

"I found out the truth," she tells her. "The very next day, I woke up with my flesh stinging. I had been outraged. Then, to worsen things, I had received news that he had fled the country. He had even taken my pearl necklace."

At the mention of her jewels, the Queen lets out a loud sob. It's obvious to Luna that Elizabeth had honestly cared about them.

"They had been a gift from my mother," the Queen elaborates, sniffling. Luna nods sympathetically, able to relate because of her own loss.

"My Queen," Luna eventually says, sick of the somber silence that had settled around them. "What did you do after Lucius hurt you so?"

"Naturally, I moved on," the Queen recalls with a smile. "I had focused all of my anger onto my work. Historians even called it the "Golden Age" due to how much I did. It was beneficial to both muggles and wizards. That's why, Ms. Lovegood, I am able to talk to you right now."

"Was it hard?" Luna asks quietly. Elizabeth goes silent for a moment, her expression unreadable.

"It was," she eventually confides. "I did love him. Even if it was foolish for me to do so."

"Did you ever get married?" Luna questions. Elizabeth shakes her head.

"No," the Queen tells her. "After Lucius, I had decided that I didn't have time for any more games. I had a country to run and no man would prevent me from doing it."

"You're the strongest woman I've ever met," Luna tells her honestly. Elizabeth blushes, her eyes widening. Despite that, the corners of her lips tilt upward.

"You're an interesting child, Ms. Lovegood," the Queen compliments. This time, Luna blushes.

"Thank you, My Queen," Luna says sheepishly. Elizabeth laughs, the sound loud in the empty corridor.

"Run along, child," she says. "Dinner's about to start soon. Visit me again later, okay? You're quiet the conversationalist."

Nodding, Luna bid the Queen goodbye and hurried to the Great Hall. Now that the Queen mentioned it, she _was_ quite hungry.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Scavenger Hunt 1.0**

 **Word Count: 532**


	186. Drabble 186: TomHarry

**Title: Fire and Ice**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

* * *

Once upon a time, I had hated Tom. To me, he had been nothing more than the murderer of my parents. He was someone to defeat, someone to _hate_ , and hate I did. I was so caught up in this hatred, I foolishly allowed Dumbledore to put me exactly where he wanted. The man broke me, his hands ruthlessly tearing me apart repeatedly. Threats were uttered, blood was shed, and, one by one, I lost everyone I cared about.

…Sirius.

…Remus.

…Hermione.

…Ron.

I had no one. The other Weasley's had turned against me. To them, I had been nothing more than a murderer. I was the person who had taken their precious Ronald away. Quicker than I thought, I found myself alone. Without Sirius and Remus, I hadn't been able to protect myself from the Dursley's. I had been beaten and sullied by their inner mania, touched by hands that were darker than sin.

I had flown into despair, thinking that I was alone in the world, thinking that I had _no one_. That's when things changed. That's when _he_ changed.

My descent into darkness couldn't have been more delightful.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

I'm inside of my study, the familiar surroundings putting me at ease. Tom walks in, the sound of his socks softly hitting the carpet making me smile. Without missing a beat, the older man heads to the bookcase, not even sparing me a glance.

"Not going to greet me?" I ask, huffing in faux irritation. Tom doesn't take the bait. Rather, he continues to look through the titles, humming under his breath every so often. Knowing that he's not going to give me a response, I turn back to the paperwork in front of me.

Several moments of comfortable silence passes, and I blink when two long arms abruptly wrap themselves around my chest, a chin coming to rest on my shoulders.

"Tom?" I question softly. Said man smiles at me, bringing his finger up to gently touch his lips.

 _Shush,_ he tells me silently. Seeing the glint in his eyes, I laugh out loud, actively ignoring the glare he sends me. We're going to be playing that, huh?

Not one to disappoint, I reach up to tangle my fingers in his hair, yanking it until he almost falls on top of me. I don't hesitate to put my lips over his demandingly, relishing in the harsh bite that he gives my lower lip. The kiss isn't chaste. Rather, it's dominating and passionate; fiery and enticing. It's not a kiss to be shared among lovers. Instead, it's one to be shared upon enemies.

A perfect fit, indeed.

" _Harry_ ," Tom hisses, pulling back. It's a wordless order – one that he wants me to follow. Unfortunately for him, I merely clench my jaw, looking at him stubbornly. At once, a flame ignites in those crimson eyes of him, and a light bulb goes off in my head.

Game on.

Not a second wasted, Tom pulls me to my feet by my hair, chuckling when I yelp. He keeps his tight hold on it and twirls, apparating us to his bedroom with a soft crack. I'm thrown on the soft, black sheets within a moment, but he's there with me, his teeth gnawing on my lips. I'm groaning into his heated kisses, my back arching up for more, _more, more._

Tom doesn't disappoint me, either. He runs his hands all over my body, his touch teasing yet possessive at the same time. I'm moaning and pleading, _begging_ for him to make love to me – to finally _unite_ us. It's in these moments that I feel alive; It's when my body burns from his touch, when my mind finally shuts off and allows euphoria to set in.

Tom plays me like an instrument. He strokes and teases me, sending me to a world beyond this one. It's sexy, enticing, and outright _magnificent,_ and I'm soon lost; my mind floating outside of my body.

When we're finally sated, the intensity of our coupling slowly wears off. I come down from my high, my hands instinctively reaching for him. I whimper low in my throat, so devastatingly _lost_.

The loneliness from before is back. It's bringing me close and _devouring_ me. I need Tom, need _help_ , and he's there. His long arms pull me close, singlehandedly destroying the horrid thoughts.

In that moment, I remember _why_ I fell for Tom. When the world threatened to consume me with hatred, _he_ had been the one to scorch me with the flames of pleasure. When I had been close to giving up, _he_ had been the one that made me fight. When I am on the verge of destruction, he _saves_ me. While I am ice, _he_ is fire.

He is both my light and my darkness. I wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Dueling Club - Write about a fiery/passionate relationship.**

 **Word Count: 805**


	187. Drabble 187: RodolphusBellatrix

**Title: Soft Whispers**

 **Fandom: Harry Potter by JK Rowling**

 **Pairing: Rodolphus x Bellatrix**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Disclaimer: I, Firediva0, do not own in any way, shape, or form, the Harry Potter franchise, or anything to do with character rights. Instead, I am a mere fan with an almost absurd amount of fascination concerning the HP universe.**

* * *

There is comfort in the darkness of insanity.

In her mindscape, shadows dwell. They embrace her in their tainted arms, press sinful kisses onto her innocent forehead, whisper enticing promises when others threaten to harm her…

Most would call this lunacy. They'd say that she's lying, that she's _imagining_ it, but Bellatrix knows the truth. She knows what lies in the darkness, knows of the burning truths that others couldn't even _hope_ to know.

Her husband, Rodolphus, knows this just as much as she does. He knows of the soft voices that whisper in her ears, knows of the tender touches that dance across her body…

He is the only one who understands her. Even Narcissa, her beloved sister, doesn't understand. It's in moments like this one, when she's pressed to Rodolphus' chest, each of them showing their true colors, that she feels at peace.

"Are you not afraid?" a soft voice whispers, the figure's hand reaching up to cup her cheek. Bella laughs, the sound echoing across the room.

"I haven't felt fear in years," she responds. Her hand idly reaches up to drag across his bare chest, leaving slightly raised welts in its wake.

"True," Rodolphus concedes, "but we may die today."

"We knew what we were getting into the day we swore fealty to him," Bellatrix tells him. "Besides, it's a little too late to be fearful of the consequences. The whole world knows of our involvement."

"I just want to protect you," Rodolphus tells her tenderly. Bella's hardened eyes soften, her wrinkles smoothing out. Reaching up, she gently caresses his face with the back of her hand.

Unknown to the rest of the world, they aren't crazy nor are they insane. They simply want to protect the people they love. It's a shame that they can't understand that.

"And I you," she replies honestly. "However, we're fighting to protect us _and_ magic itself. We can't give up because we're doubtful."

"I'll kill them," he promises, conviction ringing in his words, "if they hurt you. They've done enough."

Bella's mind flashes back to Azkaban, to the hunger pains that assaulted her, to the horrid smell of rotting eggs, to the knowledge that she had _failed_. That had been one of her darkest moments. Even now, she's affected by nightmares caused by that wretched place.

"They won't hurt me," Bella soothes him, her eyes flashing with fire. She'd be damned if they sent her back, damned if she failed _again_. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Rather than replying, Rodolphus leans down to gently place a kiss on her lips. It's a kiss of comfort and promise- one that Bellatrix knows signaled the start of something. Whether it was good was anyone's guess but, if she had him by her side, she knew that she could fight it.

"Come on," she orders, back straightening. "We have a war to win."

Together, they apparate. Hidden by the darkness of the night, two interlaced hands reside.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **The Choose Your Wand Challenge - Step 1 - The Wood: Ebony - Write about a Death Eater.**

 **November Word Count: 518.**


	188. Drabble 188: TomHarry

**Title: Covered in Obscurity**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle Jr. x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature – Explicit**

 **Warnings: Alternate universe, nothing is what is seems.**

 **Summary:** **Emerald eyes gazed into his own, beckoning him forward with a tempting promise. Tom desperately wanted to give in, desperately wanted to let go, but he knew that this was all a dream. He knew that, once he woke up, all of it would melt away. That's why, if he was going to give into this temptation, he would do it on his own terms. Harry had to know. He had to!**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Dark, gray clouds covered the sky, tiny droplets of moisture rapidly escaping. Each drop hit the ground with a low thud, unheard due to the roaring wind. Gone was the happy atmosphere that once radiated around him; gone was the only person able to make him smile. He was all alone, was trapped in a world that didn't give a damn about his happiness.

Slowly, crimson eyes trailed upwards. To be honest, Tom didn't know how long he had been here. These days, he was always blanking out. It wasn't uncommon to see him walking around his manor, his gaze unfocused; it wasn't uncommon to see him standing in the frame of his bedroom door, his eyes pinned on the bed; it wasn't uncommon to see tears falling from blank scarlet eyes, the normally strong man trembling harshly.

No, it wasn't unusual at all, and that was the problem.

His pride, his joy, his _life_ had been taken from him. It had left him a mere shell, a mere _shadow_ of the powerful person he had once been. Yes, Tom Riddle had been destroyed in the most ironic of ways.

Love, the one thing he was supposed to hate, had completely obliterated him.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _Again,_ Tom mused silently. _I am here yet again._

Familiar dark clouds cover the sky, tiny droplets of moisture rapidly escaping them. Once upon a time, Tom had wondered why it always seemed to be raining, had wondered how come, even when Harry, sweet, innocent, and happy Harry, had been in his life, it was still a dreary atmosphere that evaded his mindscape. Those thoughts had left; however, when Harry had died. It was then that he had found out the bitter truth. Even when Harry had been in his life, he had always known that things would end this way. Tom had already known that he'd be condemned to sadness and despair, had already known that he'd be left _alone_ for the rest of eternity.

 _Did he ever even love me at all?_

Sometimes, in the dark shadows of his mind, Tom would wonder whether he had dreamed of their romance. He wondered if he had been so desperate for love that he created one. _Perhaps,_ he wondered, _I will wake up one day to find that Harry and I have never known each other. Perhaps, I will wake up to find him completely erased from my memory; the love we shared torn apart by the cruel hands of fate._

Inwardly, Tom admitted that this may be the ravings of a mad-man, but he wasn't willing to completely discard the idea just yet. He needed the pain to leave, needed to be able to think _clearly_ again. Harry had completely taken over his mind, practically driving him mad with grief, rage, and sorrow.

 _I just want you back. I miss the fire that burned in your eyes, miss the rapid retorts you'd shoot back at me, miss the way your body would mold into mine… I didn't mean what I said. You must know that I didn't mean it… I love you._

From his perch on the ground, Tom slowly curled in on himself, relishing in the coldness of each drop of rain as it connected with his flesh. Maybe, if he sat there long enough, it'd take away the pain?

It didn't.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Open your eyes, Tom," a voice called out softly. Eyes fluttering open, crimson connected with green emeralds. Tom blinked, his hands reaching upward to rub at his eyes.

"Harry?" he asked after a moment, disbelief warring with hope. The boy, Harry, smiled, his mouth stretching wide to reveal pearly, white teeth.

"Tom," Harry called again, still smiling. He shifted, his raven hair moving with him, and Tom couldn't deny the painful twinge in his heart even if he tried. It was Harry – his Harry! He didn't think about what he was doing, didn't think about the possible ramifications of his actions when he leaned forward, throwing himself at the smiling boy. Harry, having been unprepared for the sudden weight, had fallen to the ground, their legs twining together in a familiar motion.

Tom, having ended up on top of the boy, looked straight into those familiar eyes, feeling the beginnings of gratitude swirl in his chest. He leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart, his hand reaching up to cup Harry's pale cheek.

"Harry," he called out seriously. "I didn't mean what I said. I love you."

"I know," the green-eyed boy whispered, his grin never leaving. "Tom, it wasn't your fault that I died."

"It was," the red-eyed man told him, shaking his head. "If I had heeded your words, this would have never happened!"

"At the time, you had been in the throes of mania. Your soul was literally ripped into pieces. You would have never listened to me, a half-blood, under such conditions!"

"That is no excuse, Harry," Tom told him. There is a gleam in his eyes; one that Harry can't place. It both confused and horrified him. "All those years ago, when I had first heard the prophecy, I had known you were my mate. When I had gone to you, pretending to harm you, I had placed you tenderly in your crib. It had been there that I made a promise. I was _never_ to harm you."

"You didn't," Harry told him futilely. "Tom, you didn't kill me!"

"I did," Tom said. The gleam was growing brighter, was making the scarlet eyes seem _black_. "I killed you, my mate, and I deserve to repent."

"I don't have time for this!" Harry cried out in frustration. "Tom, you don't know what you're saying. They're _making_ you think this way."

"I know this for myself, Harry," Tom said, deathly calm. "I killed you."

"No! Tom, wake up! **WAKE UP!"**

Harry's face, which had previously been set in a grimace, abruptly twisted. Panic filled green irises and he stared at something behind Tom. His mouth opened soundlessly, as if he was attempting to scream, but Tom heard nothing he was saying. For, in the next moment, the emerald-eyed teen disappeared, leaving Tom all by himself. Tom couldn't handle the abrupt departure, though. He fell to ground, clutching his arms. He was trembling, his eyes stuck on the spot that Harry had resided in. Gone, Harry was gone again! His grief returned, stronger than ever, and he was gone, gone, gone.

No one could save him now. Of this, Tom was certain.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Minerva," Dumbledore calls out, his fingers interlaced in thought. His eyes are focused on the big T.V that hangs on the wall, displaying three images. One is of his patient, Tom Riddle. The man is shifting restlessly in his induced sleep, his shoulders trembling as tears fall from his eyes. The other is of his patient, Harry Potter. The boy is shifting as well, his face trapped in a scowl. He, too, is crying, and his body is trembling harshly. The final image is of a dreary landscape. In this image, Tom is on the floor, his broken crimson eyes focused on a raining sky.

"Yes?" Minerva asks, walking into the room. She watches as the wizened wizard reaches up to stroke his beard, a small smirk slowly stretching across his lips. "Tell the nurses to give Mr. Riddle another dose of the serum. By my calculations, he will be prepared to wake up in the next month or so."

"What of Mr. Potter?" Minerva asks. "He's showing signs of waking up. If he does, you know he will kill us all."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore muses. "Harry has always been a strong boy. He will no doubt attempt to protect his lover's delicate mind. Give him another dose of the sleeping potion."

"We're going to pay for this," Minerva finally says, heading towards the doors. "No one will forgive us for what we have done."

"Alas, Minerva. For the greater good, sacrifices must be made. This is a small one in the grand scheme of things."

"I hope so, Albus. I truly hope so…"

Unknown to both Dumbledore and Minerva, in the second room, an eye flutters open. Emerald jewels peer out into the world, a dark gleam shining within. Albus Dumbledore is going to pay. Of this, Harry is sure.

* * *

 **Word Count: 1,462**

 **Written for: The Great 2016 Cotillion Challenge - Riddle, Tom x Potter, Harry.**


	189. Drabble 189: Draco x Luna

**Draco x Luna - World So Cold**

* * *

Luna walks down the barren street, her breaths coming in small puffs of white. The bitter chill of the wind assaults her, but she continues to march on, determined to reach her destination. Moments pass, the only sound being that of her shoes hitting the pavement. While several street lights illuminate her path, she still finds herself straining to see the area in front of her. When she reaches the end of the street, she begins to trek through a large field of grass.

She's almost there. She only has a few more yards to go.

Sure enough, after a moment, she stops. Unlike the abandoned street she had previously been on, there are no streetlights here. Darkness prevails, plundering everything in it's black sheet of mystery. From where she stands, she can barely make out a small sign: _Hogsmeade Park,_ the battered billboard states.

Allowing herself to lower to the ground, Luna relaxes when she feels the silky texture of the soft, green grass beneath her. A feeling of familiarity washes over her, and she smiles. For the first time in a while, she feels at home. Reclining onto her back, warm gray eyes peer towards the sky. Without the stars there, the moon seems to be especially bright. It gleams in the sky, as if winking at her, and Luna giggles softly. It's been so long since she's seen the night sky, been so long since she's been _free_. She can't help but relish in this, relish in the intense feeling of happiness that invades her body.

"Lovely, isn't it?" a silky voice asks. Stiffening, Luna bolts up into a sitting position. Stupidly, she narrows her eyes, determined to see the person who had invaded her territory. In the darkness of the night, she can only make out the barest hint of pale, blonde hair.

"Very," she returns, doing her best to hide her fright. She knows her fear is irrational, knows that the stranger probably came here for the same reason as her, but she can't help but be weary. Her whole life, she's been told of dreadful stories. Each one depicted a little girl going into the woods, only to be sullied by a monster who came out to play. She can't help but imagine all of those scenarios - herself cast as the little girl and the stranger cast as the monster.

"Yes," the other mumbles softly. "This is the only place in the world that offers freedom - _true_ freedom."

"May I ask," Luna begins curiously, "why you seek freedom?" Although, she still feels trepidation, she can't help but be intrigued by the other. He couldn't have been more right. This was the only place in the world that Luna could really feel at peace.

"Where I'm from," the figure returns smoothly, a wistful note to his voice, "you have one choice. You can either rebel against all that you've ever known, or you can stay and fight. Either way, someone or something will break you. The word freedom doesn't exist."

"I'm sorry," Luna tells him sincerely. "You shouldn't have to go through that." Luna knows, perhaps more than anyone, that some things should never be experienced. From what she can tell, the other can't possibly be any older than she is. There's something in his voice, something in the way he carries himself, that tells her everything she needs to know.

For reasons unknown to her, a flash of gray appears in the darkness. Its depths gleam with something akin to awareness.

"What about you?" the other asks. "What makes you want to escape?" Luna looks at him questioningly, as if unsure as to how he knew her feelings, but the other merely shrugs in response.

"Honestly," she says, "I crave freedom from my peers. To others, I'm crazy in the head. My dad knows of this. Everyday, he'll tell me that I'm amazing, that I shouldn't care what they think, but it's _hard_. I'm not crazy; I know I'm not. It hurts me, pains me even, and I can't stand how depressed it makes me. I'm _not_ crazy!"

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you're crazy," the figure says after a moment. Luna looks at him, as if trying to decipher whether or not he was being sincere, but something tells her that he's telling the truth.

"Thank you," she says, voice watery. Only now does she notice the tears that stream down her face. Abruptly, she realizes that the boy is moving closer to her, a pale hand coming up to wipe away her tears.

" _Definitely_ , not crazy," the teen remarks sarcastically. Luna doesn't know what it is about the other, but she can't but reach out to hug him. Prior to this moment, no one had ever understood her. Her father had tried, but it wasn't enough. Others, like Ginny, had also tried, but they would never understand. They couldn't possibly begin to understand what she feels.

The male hugs her back fiercely, his body molding against her own, and Luna had never felt so _protected_. Willingly, she allows herself to relax into his hold. She isn't sure how long they stand there, hugging, but eventually she's walking home, their encounter fresh on her mind.

As the sun climbs upwards, feelings of happiness and warmth assault Luna. Never before had she felt so _free_. Only one thought passes through her mind:

" _Draco," the man whispered. "Call me Draco."_

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Muggle Arts: Futurism - Write about something short-lived but has a great effect on someone else.**

 **Writing Club - December - Eat A Red Apple Day - Write about Draco Malfoy.**

 **Ministry of Magic - Learning Skills - Write a story for any Hogwarts class.'**

 **Word Count: 910**


	190. Drabble 190: Harry x Veil

**Pairing: Harry x Veil**

 **Rating: Mature (Death)**

 **Warning: Alternate Universe**

* * *

 _Hidden by the darkness, I float, weightless. For once, I am free of pain. Tranquility courses through my veins, embracing me in its dopey embrace. Distantly, I'm aware of the minutes that fly by, signalling the passage of time. Absently, I can hear a faint voice whispering my name, beckoning me forward, but I'm lost. The panicked voice fades away, leaving me alone in the darkness. Freedom, blessed freedom, has been granted, and I intend on relishing in it._

 _Through the inky veil of black, I can see a faint movement. Upon closer inspection, I notice the oddly shaped door that stands in the middle of the room. As if knowing that I want to examine it, the darkness gently deposits me on the ground. Curiously, I move towards the foreign entrance, wondering what it is doing here in this darkened room._

 _Slowly, almost hesitantly, I reach out. My hand brushes against the surprisingly soft center, and I gasp once I realize that there is nothing shielding the entrance. Cushioned inside of the frame is a pit of nothingness. Whispers come from the door's depths._

" _Put your hand in," one urges. I shake my head, my previous tranquility slowly disintegrating before my very eyes. Panic fills me, my mouth opening in one soundless, terrified gasp._

 _I need to leave, and I need to do it now._

 _Immediately, I recoil, urging the darkness to pick me up once more. It doesn't. The door seems to move forward, as if attempting to envelope me inside, and I scream out loud. It's a scream of pure horror - one that displays the sheer depth of what I feel. I'm going to die. In this lonely room, I'm going to die, and no one will know that I'm here. Even if I do survive, I know I'm going to need intensive therapy._

" _Please," I whisper fiercely, hoping against all else that someone will free me. "Please, save me from this wretched place."_

 _Before my very eyes, a light comes into life inside of the mystical door. It is bright and radiant… So much like home._

 _Before I can stop myself, I take a step forward, already intent on going through. My body is halfway through the doorway, the voices acting as an entrancing lullaby, when someone speaks out._

" _HARRY, STOP!"_

 _I turn abruptly. That voice is familiar. Sure enough, through the darkness, I can barely make out the features of one Sirius Black. However, it's too late. A pale hand reaches out to me, pulling me inside the darkened door._

 _An anguished scream rings out, but I can't focus on it._

 _I have fallen._

* * *

"W-what just happened?" Hermione asks, for once speechless. Sirius doesn't answer her. Rather, he continues looking at the space Harry had stood in a mere moment before, his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Around them, everyone seems to have paused. The fierce battle that had been going on had all but ended when the Chosen One had fallen into the Veil. Even Voldemort stands ramrod straight, his eyes pinned on the veil in shock.

"I think," Remus whispers, awe and terror in his voice, "that we just found out a new trait of the Veil."

Before he can elaborate, his nostrils flare outwards and he rushes towards Sirius, pulling the struggling man into his arms.

"No," he growls out fiercely. "You are _not_ throwing yourself into that veil."

While Remus works on containing Sirius, everyone else stares at the veil in trepidation. Never before had they been as afraid of it as they were now. For it to literally reach out and grab Harry…

That was the day a unanimous truce was reached: No more battles in the Department of Mystery.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Ministry of Magic Forum - Trainee Unspeakable Task 1 - Story must be set in the Department of Mysteries. Extra Prompts: Pain, Therapy.**

 **Word Count: 610**


	191. Drabble 191: HermioneHarry

**Hermione x Harry**

 **Stay**

* * *

It's lonely here.

Once upon a time, I remember having a family, can remember being _happy_. Those times seem so distant now. The only thing that lingers is an overwhelming sense of abandonment.

I feel betrayed, _humiliated,_ by the ones I used to call friends. The world that I used to love slowly decayed, leaving me standing, alone, in the remnants of it.

Apart of me wants to get over it. I should have known this would happen, should have known that I'd be abandoned, but I had thought that things were different, that _they_ were different. As it turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong.

My name is Harry James Potter, and I'm here to regale the story of my downfall.

* * *

Dead, dead, dead, _dead…_

Ginny was _dead._

I hadn't gotten there fast enough. Tom Riddle had killed her before-hand, had used her body to taunt me with the fact that I had _failed._

I can remember the exact moment when I had told Ron. I remember the pain, the _anguish_ , that marred his face. I can remember the look filled of fury he sent me, can remember the accusatory finger he pointed towards me as he cursed my name. I remember him charging forward, intent on pummeling me into the ground, and I remember Snape rushing to hold him back.

I can remember Snape turning to look at me as he did it, wonder and something reminiscent of fear in his eyes. I remember Dumbledore looking at me with a look filled with trepidation, and I remember Hermione peering at me with something akin to disbelief.

I can remember slowly tilting my head forward, my bang hiding my eyes. I can remember the one thought that crossed my mind: I had _failed_.

* * *

Since that day, many years passed. It had taken a long time for Ron to forgive me, but with Hermione's help, he eventually did. By now, it wasn't uncommon to see us all together, smiling and laughing.

The darkness of our pasts had finally receded, leaving us with blissfulness. Every year, we won more and more against Voldemort, further brightening the sense of hope that engulfed the Wizarding World.

However, like someone great once said, all good things must come to an end.

* * *

Looking back on it, I suppose that it had been foolish to fall for her. I think I knew that deep down, as well. I just hadn't wanted to face it. Now, though… Now, I know the truth.

Once upon a time, I had fallen for Hermione. There was just something about her that drove me crazy. Perhaps, it was her eyes. They had always been wizened with knowledge, yet softened with kindness. Perhaps, though, it was something more than her eyes and her tendency to be kind. Maybe, it was her ability to _understand_ me that drove me to love her. Even now, I remember the time she told me that I needn't be afraid, that she would always be there for me; even when Ron and the rest of the world weren't.

" _You don't understand," I remember telling her. "I am only ever seen as the hero. To others, Harry James Potter doesn't actually exist. The only thing I can do is save them. That's it."_

" _That's not true, though," Hermione interrupted me. "I see you as more than that."_

 _I remember smiling at her, pain etched into my features._

" _You're the only one," I told her sadly. "Even Ron doesn't see me for who I am."_

" _Then, screw him," she told me plainly, one eyebrow arched. I remember looking at her with disbelief, wondering if she had finally gone insane._

" _It's not that simple," I protested. She held up a hand, successfully shushing me._

" _If Ron and the others can't be there for you, I will. Always."_

 _She looked at me, a small smile on her face. Her eyes radiated sincerity, and I couldn't help but reach out to hug her._

" _Okay," I remember whispering to her. "Forever and always you."_

At the time, we had taken the promise seriously. Even when Ron left me, Hermione was always there. Eventually, I had even gathered the courage to kiss her.

 _Tenderly, I leaned forward, pressing my lips against hers. At first, Hermione hadn't moved. Rather, she had stared at me, her brown eyes large with disbelief. Despite this, recognition soon flashed in her eyes and she melted into it, kissing me back just as gently._

 _Slowly, I remember pulling back, looking into chocolate eyes tenderly._

" _I love you," I whispered to her. Hermione smiled, her lips parting to reveal pearly white teeth._

" _I love you, too," she told me back. I remember smiling widely, my whole world seeming to light up with happiness._

From that day onward, we had been a couple. We hadn't hid it from anyone, and I had become the happiest I had ever been.

For the first time in a long time, life had been worth living.

* * *

It had been good while it lasted.

Soon after, I found out the bitter truth: Ron and Hermione had been dating, all along…

" _What are you doing?" I had asked urgently. Hermione and Ron sprang apart, the former's eyes wide with something akin to fear._

" _Harry," Hermione said, voice trembling. "It's not what you thin-"_

" _Bullocks," I remember saying. Vividly, I can remember the hurt and pain that raced through my body. Vividly, I can remember the sharp crack of my heart as it shattered into a thousand pieces. "Save your lies."_

" _I'm not," Hermione tried to say, but I cut her off._

" _STOP IT!" I roared. "You promised forever. Is THIS your version of forever?"_

 _I looked at her, betrayal floating in my eyes, and relished in the wince of pain she had released._

" _I'm leaving," I told her. "We're over."_

 _I left then, needing to get away lest I break down and cry. Behind me, Hermione sobbed loudly. I had ignored her._

* * *

Perhaps, that had been the final straw. I simply know that, since that day, things have never been the same. I stopped talking to Ron and Hermione completely. Heck, I even pulled away from Gryffindor house as a whole. Instead, I became friends with the Slytherins, allowing them to slowly coerce me into going to the Dark Side.

I had decided that I was done with the Light, had decided that I needed to get them out of my mind. It had worked, too. Lord Voldemort had only been to happy to accept me. Quickly, I joined the ranks and ascended them. Soon enough, I was among his favored.

By then, I had committed many treasonous acts. My hands had been tainted with the blood of others, yet I hadn't cared. I _still_ don't care.

For the first time in forever, I have found a true home in the dark. As a bonus, unlike the Light, this side had cookies. Thank you, Ms. Malfoy.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Ministry of Magic - Death Chamber Job 1 - Write about someone suffering or relishing in a Death. Minimum Word Count: 700.**

 **Word Count: 1,160.**


	192. Drabble 192: TomHarry

**One Last Time**

 **Warning: Smut**

* * *

After today, Voldemort will be no more.

While it's been a long time coming, Tom and I have finally decided what to do. Dumbledore can't have him; we won't let him. It's hard, though. To know that I'm never going to see him again; to know that I'll never feel his warmth or his kisses, his affection or his adoration… It hurts to know that, after today, he'll never be able to embrace me again. That's why, before he dies, I want him to kiss me one last time, want him to embrace me one last time.

Pale hands gently pull me closer, a quiet strength at work. Those beautiful red eyes of his bore into my own, silently asking me whether or not I want to proceed. Rather than responding, I lean forward and place a kiss on his lips, relishing in the soft contact. Two firm hands slowly travel down my hips, only stopping when they reach my bum. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his mouth comes to rest at my ear. Hot breath lightly hits the lobe, enticing me.

" _Harry_ ," he groans. At once, I'm lost. His voice, so heady and decadent, rings through the scorching air around us. It threatens to push me over the edge, threatens to make me lose my mind.

Before I realize it, I'm ripping off his clothes. In a blurry passage of time, his fingers gently prepare me, caressing my sides as he does so. When he's certain I'm ready, he enters me, moving in and out fluidly. We're moaning and groaning, our passion heady in the air around us, and I _can't breathe._

Harder and harder, sweeter and sweeter… We're begging for something, our voices mixing together in a beautiful crescendo, until finally we go silent. All that's left is our heavy breathing and soiled skin.

I don't know how long we stay there. I simply know that, too soon, he's standing up. He picks me up and places me lightly on the bed. With one tender kiss to my forehead, he walks out of the room, ignoring the tears that fall down my cheeks.

It doesn't take long for the news to travel. Within an hour, Draco Malfoy runs into the room and yells, "He's dead," in anguish. Upon seeing my naked and soiled state, he doesn't hesitate to rush forward and hug me. I hug him back, the image of Tom lying on the floor, dead, rising in my mind.

Dead, dead, dead, _dead_.

Tom was dead.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Ministry of Magic - Proven Interest - Death: Write a character death.**

 **Word Count: 420**


	193. Drabble 193: RowenaSalazar

**Title: The Love of a Woman**

 **Pairing: Rowena Ravenclaw x Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Pining, intense desire, persuasion, and a surreptitious arrangement.**

 **Summary: _If he can't love you, let me embrace you._**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Rowena gazes into the sky listlessly, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She has always known that Salazar was in love with Godric, has always known that she had no chance. Despite that, she can't stop the intense yearning in her heart; Despite that, she can't stop the numerous emotions that plague her, pleading and demanding that she somehow make him fall in love with her. Alas, that is something she knows will never happen.

Tilting her head downwards, Rowena can feel her heart slowly break. Her mind conjures up painful memories, ones that make her want to curl up in a ball and cry. Whenever he was with Godric, Salazar would smile brilliantly. It would be beautiful and radiant, caring and sweet. It was so mesmerizing that even she, the Ice Queen, could feel her chest fill with warmth.

She could never get him to smile like that. Whenever he's with her, his smiles are polite, at best. She's never seen him look so carefree, never seen him look so _happy_ , and it's _killing_ her. Logically, she knows that Salazar has always been close to Godric, but she can't help but _wish_ that he was that close to her.

Alas, that would never happen. A tear, crystalline in appearance, slowly trails down her cheek. Her heart is shattered.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"I'm worried," Helga announces. Rowena looks at her, one eyebrow raised. The other women merely gestures to the side, indicating that she doesn't want them to be overheard. Glancing at the boys, who are conversing about what classes they want to teach, Rowena slowly makes her way to her friend.

"Why?" she asks simply. Helga shifts, her golden eyes glinting with concern.

"You've been staring at him again," the woman informs her. Rowena's eyes widen, but Helga isn't done. "I can see the pain it causes you. Why do you continue to do it when it hurts you so?"

Rowena sighs and closes her eyes, trying her best to calm her turbulent emotions. She is the Ice Queen. It is not her job to feel compassion for others. She must only focus on logic. Yes, that is her job. She ignores the voice in her head that mocks her, ignores the quiet, _"Logic may be your expertise, but emotions are your weak point."_ She can survive this; she _will_ survive this.

"I don't stare at him," she denies, opening her eyes. She's sure they are alight with something akin to defiance, sure that they're frigid and cold. Just as she's supposed to be. Emotions have no room in her heart. "You're imagining it."

She turns, not wanting Helga to see the cracks that are beginning to form underneath her mask. This love she feels will not define her. She is stronger than that. With the air of a queen, she leaves, ignoring the intense stare boring into her back.

The Ice Queen could never be so weak as to fall in love with a mere mortal.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

It's completely an accident when Rowena stumbles upon Salazar. The normally composed man is in one of the abandoned classrooms, his head tilted back in defeat. Tears slowly escape from his eyes, and it startles Rowena. Salazar does not cry. His mask is too strong, his shields _impenetrable_. For him to cry, there can only be one cause.

Godric.

Rather than moving into the room, Rowena stays where she is. She peaks through the door, enchanted by this new side of him. Before today, she had thought him incapable of feeling what she felt, but maybe, just maybe, he felt the same things as her.

"I remember," a voice whispered. Rowena jumps, rushing to smother her yelp with her hand. Salazar moves slightly, his hand coming up to reach towards the ceiling. "When he first met me."

At first, she thinks he's talking to her, but he's not. His gaze is distant. She can tell that he's seeing into the past, peering into the very depths of his memories. How lucky she is to witness it.

"At the time, I had been a wretched child. My lineage was one of bloodshed and terror. The things my family did were _awful_. It's a wonder Godric could find solace in someone as twisted at me. Alas, for some inane reason, he found something in me. _Pureness_ , he had called it. If only he knew of the feelings I felt for him… If only he knew how _disgusting_ I really am."

Before Rowena can control herself, she steps into the room. Salazar's gaze instantly focuses on her, and she can practically _see_ his shields as they re-build themselves.

"Don't do that," she chides. "Don't shut yourself off from me."

"Why are you here?" Salazar asks, ignoring her. Rowena shrugs, feeling _hope_ for the first time. Salazar feels the same way as her. Maybe, if she plays her cards right, he can be hers. Perhaps, her chance at happily ever after hasn't been destroyed.

"I heard what you said," she tells him. "You love Godric, do you not?"

Salazar stands, as if he was going to leave, but Rowena doesn't hesitate to block the entrance with her body.

"You simply want him to love you, to _care_ for you. You want to feel his affection for you, want to feel him caress your body with _passion_. In short, you want him."

Salazar opens his mouth, no doubt to say something scathing, but Rowena continues.

"But he'll never love you, and you _know_ this. It _pains_ you and makes you want to _die_ , but you won't. You're too strong for that, too bloody _stubborn_ to let your love define you. Do you know what the truth is, though? Your love _already_ defines you."

She pauses and lets her words reach him. She can visibly see his mask as it slowly cracks, can see the normally strong Snake begin curl in on himself, desperately attempting to protect its fragile foundation.

"You've _fallen_."

Like glass, Salazar shatters. Inwardly, Rowena feels slightly guilty over what she just did, but she justifies herself. This _needed_ to happen. Godric was destroying Salazar. The least she could do was fix the man. She could love him, could make him _happy_. The pain would be _worth_ it.

Taking a step forward, she gently cups his chin. Softly, she whispers,"If he can't love you, let me embrace you."

Before Salazar can respond, Rowena leans forward and kisses him tenderly. As reluctant lips kiss her back, only one thought crosses her mind: _Oh, how the mighty fall._

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Shipping Wars: Rowena x Godric versus Rowena x Salazar. Would have done Rowena x Godric, but Godric belongs to Salazar. :p**

 **Word Count: 1126.**


	194. Drabble 194: LuciusOrion

**Soon, My Love… Soon You'll Be Mine**

 **By Firediva0**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Hello, I'm Orion Black. If you're reading this, I must have died several decades ago. As I'm sure you're aware, this journal has had several powerful enchantments placed upon it to ensure secrecy. If you're not a part of the Black line, I'm sure you've experienced a rather… _gruesome_ problem. Oh, well. It's too late to warn you. My sincerest apologies if you're lying on the floor, dead. I truly didn't mean for you to die.

Anyway, this journal will be used to document the rather… _unsavory_ moments in my life. Hopefully, my wife, Walburga, will not read this. If she does, I'm sure she'll kill me. Believe me, I know I'm dead, but that demon will find a way to kill me all over again.

Before we begin, let me give you a word of caution. In my family, very few things are forbidden. Incest and age gap relations are no exception. Do not be surprised if I mention a rather surreptitious relationship between a younger male and I.

Consider yourself warned. Now, let us begin.

* * *

 _December 22, 1954_

It's unbearably cold today. Walburga is upstairs, no doubt planning her next excursion into town. As always, she values her appearance greatly. She can never go too long without buying something to make her seem even more presentable. I don't get it, honestly. Why can't she utilize the numerous articles of clothing inside of her closet? Alas, perhaps it is a female thing.

While she gathers her clothes, I sit inside of my office. A pen is clutched delicately in my hand, and I have classical music playing in the background.

Today is a special day. My old friends, Abraxas and Selena Malfoy, will finally have the child they have been striving for. In a couple of minutes, I will be venturing to St. Mungo's to support them. Already, I can imagine the nervousness that will no doubt permeate the air. Abraxas, the adorable fool, will no doubt be anxious as he clutches his wife's hand. Selena, meanwhile, will most likely become agitated and throw barbed insults. While their dynamic is weird, I envy them for the true love they hold for each other. Despite what Selena might say, it's obvious that she's in love with Abraxas.

Speaking of which, I believe it is time to go.

Until next time,

Orion.

* * *

 _December 23, 1954_

It was a beautiful baby boy. I remember when I first held him within my arms. Beside me, Selena and Abraxas watched me, admiring my warm smile. I didn't smile like this often. The baby is just so _beautiful_. Silky, golden wisps of hair sit atop a pale head, and the baby's gray eyes seem to peer into my soul.

Lucius, they named him. It fits him. This baby will bring light into our lives. We just don't know how. Thanks to him, the next few years are bound to be exciting.

* * *

 _June 23, 1972_

It's been seventeen years since that day. Lucius has grown into an entrancing young man. Over the years, he's obtained a wonderful magical education, a marvelous political lesson, and a particularly in-depth conversation on manipulation. All in all, he's a boy fitting to lead the Malfoy estate.

However, with the years, Lucius has also developed some particularly _unsettling_ tendencies as well. While I'm used to being admired, it's _disturbing_ to have it come from him. After all, it's the baby I held all those years ago. I can't get those silly, blonde wisps out of my head, can't discard the innocent gleam that had once resided in his eyes.

Even so, I can't deny that he _has_ changed. His petite frame had broadened. Now, he has muscles and a rather impressive torso. His stamina has increased as well. Abraxas has complained of the many loud trysts his son has had, acknowledging the fact that Lucius is a rather passionate lover. Unknown to him, his words ignited jealousy within me.

I don't know what it is about Lucius. He drives me crazy. I have imagined myself as Lucius' lover many times. I can practically _taste_ the drops of sweat we'd release as he thrust into me in abandon, practically _smell_ our musk as our scents intermingle with one another.

For the first time, we'd become _one_ , and that arouses me like nothing ever has.

I can't let this desire define me, though. If Walburga finds out, I'd be dead before I could even explain.

No, I must fight it.

Of course, Lucius, ever the conniving bastard, would make this ridiculously hard.

* * *

 _September 30_ _th_ _, 1982_

I had tried.

I have failed.

During the past eight years, Lucius has done everything he possibly could to wear me down. From dinners, to sweet gifts, to random snog sessions whenever he sees me, he has employed every bloody trick in the book.

Eventually, I can't summon any more desire to fight him off. Rather than doing so, I begin to melt into his kisses, begin to melt into his ministrations… I began to plead for him to take me, even going so far as to abandon my pride. In those times, I could feel his overwhelming passion. Walburga has nothing on this. Lucius was just so _raw._ He made me feel young again, and I loved it.

I don't know how long we spend making love. Lucius has completely overwhelmed me. In and out, in and out, in and out…

I can only focus on the rhythm and even this becomes a blur after a while.

I tried to be faithful, tried to be _innocent,_ but no more. If this is sin, I don't want to be on the good side anymore.


	195. Drabble 195: TomHarry

**Title: Frosty Emeralds**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter (if you squint)**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Alternate universes: The war never happened, Tom Riddle became a mind healer, Harry Potter was never the BWL, Harry Potter killed the Dursleys using accidental magic, Harry Potter never went to Hogwarts. (I think that's it…) ((Basically, take anything you think you know, and throw it away.)**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Within the walls of Saint Mungo's Mental Hospital, there lies a special ward. In this ward, those deemed as the craziest of all the magicals go. While the scale of insanity is high, there is one astounding outlier.

Harry Potter, age 15, is said outlier.

Having been admitted into St. Mungo's nine years ago, the child barely has any memories of his life outside of these walls. From what his psychiatrist has gathered, what little memories he does have are tainted by blood and darkness. While Harry Potter may be a child, he does not have the experiences of one.

Since the tender age of one, the poor boy has been subjected to the cruelest of treatments. The cause? His very own relatives. Per their records, Harry has been undergoing abuse since the tender age of one. Perhaps, that's why they're not shocked at the string of events that landed him here? Maybe, that's why Tom Riddle, Harry's personal psychiatrist, looks upon the small child with nothing but empathy?

Having gathered in Harry's room, a cushioned white box, the two stand directly across from one another. Harry's eyes are focused on Tom, a cold glint stored within them. Unlike most children, the child doesn't appear to be restless; in fact, he seems at peace. His stance is relaxed, almost abnormally so, and Tom can see the gears turning within the boy's head.

To Harry, Tom is not a friend. To Harry, Tom is a foe.

Despite himself, Tom can feel his lips twitch upward.

"Harry," he calls softly. The child's eyes light up in recognition, but he says nothing. "How was your day?"

Those frosty eyes consider Tom, giving nothing away. Rather than responding, Harry turns on his heel and walks to the wall. Slowly, he sits down. His movements are calculated, measured. By now, Tom is certain: He will get nothing out of Harry. Not today, at least.

Taking several steps forward, he makes his way towards the boy. If the child wants to play, he can oblige him. Once he reaches him, Tom sits down right across from him.

"Do you feel at home here?" he asks, delighting in the faint twitch the boy gives. Apparently, Harry doesn't like to be questioned. Rather than saying anything, the boy looks at him, then looks away. Pale arms raise and point to the sky while green irises peer upward.

"What is home?" the boy questions instead. "Is freedom home? Is a white cage home? Is a cupboard home?"

Tom doesn't react to the boy, already aware that this is a mere diversion.

"Home is whatever you want it to be," he eventually answers. Harry looks at him, his lips curling slightly in a mocking smile.

"I don't have a home," Harry tells him, softly. "If you need desire to obtain a home, then I have no home."

"Surely you desire something?" Tom questions, leaning forward. He's riveted by the boy, intrigued by the line of questioning he's created. Working in a mental hospital, you'd expect his life to be interesting. Truthfully, it never was until Harry came. This boy – no, he was too smart to be a mere child – this _man_ made his life more intriguing.

"I don't," Harry tells him simply. On the surface, Harry has merely stated that he has no wants or desires, that he's satisfied with his life. Tom knows better, though. He can see through the veil, can see that Harry has never had anything to desire, has never had the _chance_ to desire something. That to Harry, a home wasn't necessarily something concrete. Maybe, just maybe, Harry is hinting at the fact that home is an abstract feeling – one that he hasn't been able to experience.

What does that leave you with, though?

Love? Has Harry ever experienced love? If so, with whom? Could this feeling possibly be what he considers home? In those few years, had he ever been given the _chance_ to-

No, it couldn't possibly be love. Harry was abused. In such a horrible household, he wouldn't have felt love towards anyone.

Perhaps, hate, then? Certainly, Harry would have felt hate. Any normal person would in that situation.

But, ah, Harry isn't normal, is he? Unlike other kids his age, he doesn't display emotions. Unlike other patients, Harry is unique. Perhaps, it isn't love or hate? Perhaps, it's something even more abstra-

"You're reading too much into that," Harry says. His voice startles him, almost to the point that Tom jumps. It's only years of self-restraint that prevents him from doing so.

"Then what, pray tell, do you mean?" Tom asks softly. Harry looks at him. His normally expressionless green eyes twinkle with something akin to excitement, giving Tom a mere glimpse of the mystery that lies within him. Tom can't help himself, he leans forward. Harry says nothing about his closeness. If anything, he seems to come to a decision about something.

"I mean," the boy begins, his voice barely above a whisper. Tom strains to hear him. "You're reading too much into that. I have never felt desire, yes, but that doesn't mean desire hasn't felt me."

That makes no sense. Tom looks at him, curiosity in his eyes, but Harry merely smiles at him and looks away.

"I do believe it is time for you to go, Tom," the boy tells him. As if on cue, the intercom buzzes, and Tom is summoned by the front desk. For the second time, Tom startles. He had been so engrossed by the mystery the boy presented, had been so intrigued. For him to forget his duties, though… Harry Potter was bad for him.

Nodding briskly, Tom gives the boy a quiet farewell. Absently, he can feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, but he chooses to ignore it. He'll learn more about Harry Potter tomorrow. After all, the boy isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Yes, he'll have years to solve the mystery. With a small smirk, Tom makes his way through the endless maze of corridors. It seems his life is bound to get even more interesting.

* * *

 **Notes:**

 **Written for Psychology Assignment 3: Write about a character who had to grow up too early. (Don't even ask where my mind went...)**


	196. Drabble 196: TomHarry

**Title: Enchanting, Green Eyes**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Veela AU!**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Tom reclines in his chair, peering at the boy before him with something akin to curiosity. With long, dark hair, Harry Potter is a sight to behold. His eyes, which are a brilliant green, seem to look directly into Tom's soul. His aura, which radiates innocence and purity, has an underlying current of unimaginable darkness. He's intoxicating.

It takes everything Tom has not to run up to the boy and pull him close, to not place his lips on those wonderfully plump cherry ones, to not ghost his hands on those small sides.

Despite the overwhelming desire to do so, Tom knows he won't. He has better control than that.

"What do you seek from me?" he asks instead, eyes intent. The child smirks, one beautiful, pale hand reaching up to gently swirl in the air.

"I seek so many things," he replies, voice cryptic. Even his voice is intoxicating. It's melodic and soft, something that entices Tom to no end. Despite himself, he can feel his lower extremities stir. What would the boy sound like screaming his name?

 _No_ , he inwardly chastises himself. _You cannot think about a mere child in such a heated light._

 _But, he's so beautiful,_ another voice in his head replies. _No,_ he says firmly. Throughout his inner monologue, the young child simply hums to himself, waiting as the future Dark Lord brought himself together.

"Ahem," Tom finally says, shaking his head slightly. "If you seek so many things, why do you presume I will grant them all?"

"You will grant them all," Harry begins in that soft voice of his, "simply because I want you to."

That's when it clicks in Tom. The soft voice, the intoxicating scent, the innate need to _obey_ … This boy is a Veela. A powerful one, at that.

For the first time in years, Tom Marvolo Riddle, one of the most cynical children to grace the earth, laughs. It's full-bodied and warm, something that confuses the child to no end.

"What's your name?" he asks when he finally stops laughing. For the first time that night, the boy hesitates, his green eyes peering into Tom's with something akin to concern. After a moment, he swallows, the concern in his eyes vanishing behind a cool smirk. Tom's lips twitch in amusement.

"Harry Potter," the boy voices. Tom's smile grows.

"Well, Harry Potter," he says, mockingly. "What can I assist you with?"

When emerald eyes beam with confidence, Tom knows he has him. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Daily Prompt Inspiration Thread: Veela AU!**

 **Word Count: 419**


	197. Drabble 197: TomHarry

**Title: Deadly Lovin'**

 **Pairing: Tom Marvolo Riddle/Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Muggle alternate universe, slash, Fred and George Weasley are scientist, Albus Dumbledore is a police officer.**

 **AN: Written for Finals, Round 2 of Quidditch League. This is Firediva0, Keeper of the Wasps, fulfilling her prompt, "Out to Lunch Fake Mustaches."**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _"When the whole world is against you, you have to fight."_

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Dark, gray clouds cover the sky, tiny droplets of moisture escaping rapidly. Each drop hits the ground with a low thud, unheard due to the growing wind. Located in an all-white room, Tom Marvolo Riddle sits in his chair, his knees curled up to his chest. Tears escape his crimson eyes, speaking of the inner turmoil that plagues him. Every so often, he slowly opens his eyes and peers around, his gaze searching for something that's not there.

"Harry," he eventually whispers, voice pleading. "Come back to me soon, love."

There is no answer. The tears come faster.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"You're an idiot, you know?" Tom says, coming into the room. A fond smile graces his lips and his eyes are alight with adoration. Harry laughs, the sound melodic in their dreary surroundings. Reaching forward, he gently grabs the older man's hand and pulls him down, smiling when the other releases a faint "oomph!"

"If I'm an idiot, what are you?" he returns curiously, resting his head on the other's shoulder. Tom smiles at him, hitting his chest with pride.

"Well, I'd be the charming boyfriend, of course," he begins. "You know, the one who puts up with the idiotic boyfriend."

"Really?" Harry returns, voice teasing. "So, when you got lost in the hospital, that was pure charm at work?"

"Yeah," Tom replies, blushing. "I knew where I was going. I just _pretended_ to get lost, so you'd feel better."

"Right," Harry drawls sarcastically, rolling his eyes. They both laugh, comfortable in the tranquility that radiates around them.

"Wow," Hermione finally speaks up from her place across Harry. "Once upon a time, you were rivals. When did you become so lovey-dovey?"

"It took years," Harry admits softly, looking at Tom with a soft smile. "I always thought he was some pompous git, and while he _is_ , he's definitely more than that."

"In return, I thought Harry was some weak, little kid. Someone who needed to learn his place in the world. How wrong I was."

"It's just amazing," she begins, awe easily discernable in her voice. "You guys are just so _different_."

"Really?" Harry asks, looking at her with curiosity. His eyebrows are furrowed together in thought as he looks back at Tom with skepticism. "I always thought we were pretty similar…"

"No," Hermione says, shaking her head. "Harry, you're like fire. You're passionate, determined, and temperamental. Tom, on the other hand, is like ice. He's frigid, at best, and he is secretive."

"Very keen observations," Tom compliments with a shake of his head. "Though, I'd like to think that I'm not frigid or secretive with Harry."

"You're not," Hermione hastens to reply. "You guys are truthfully the most romantic couple I've ever seen. It's brilliant."

"Thank you," Harry chirps, smiling brightly. Turning back to Tom, he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

"You hear that, Tom?" he asks. "I was able to tame you!"

"No, no, no," Tom tells him, laughing softly, as if the mere thought was hilarious. "I tamed _you,_ darling. Had I not done so, you'd be running around, getting yourself into trouble."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione intervenes, chuckling. "You'd _definitely_ be in prison or something by now."

"Humph," Harry tuts, pouting. Tom and Hermione smile widely, thoroughly amused. After a moment of relishing in the happy atmosphere, Hermione rises, knowing that she must go home lest Ron, her imbecilic husband, do something to burn the house down.

"I'll see you two later," she says, giving them both a tight hug and a peck on the cheek. With a wave, she makes her way to her car and leaves. When she's completely out of sight, Tom closes the door and turns to Harry with a devious smile.

"Shall we see who tames who, Mr. Potter?" he asks, his voice silky. Harry smirks wickedly, his eyes alight with malicious intent.

"Why, yes, Mr. Riddle," he replies. "I'd _love_ to show you your place."

With a laugh, they head to the bedroom. Hours later, they reappear, sated grins on their faces.

Life _is_ good.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Mr. Potter," Albus says, a small smile on his face. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Truthfully?" the younger man asks. At Albus' nod, he continues. "No."

"Well, I hear that you're in a relationship with Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Tom?" Harry interrupts, his eyes immediately growing suspicious. "What does Tom have to do with this?"

"I'd hate to be the one to tell you this, but this "Tom" has an alias. One that inspires fear within the hearts of many."

Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, Tom can put the fear of God into you with his glares, but he's not _that_ scary."

"His alias is Lord Voldemort," Albus tells him. Immediately, Harry pauses, blanching. He stares at Albus in disbelief, a humorless laugh ripping itself from his throat.

" _You_ ," he begins, "expect _me_ to believe that my boyfriend, the one who has been in a relationship with me for _years,_ oversees a major crime operation?"

Albus nods, causing Harry to laugh even louder, tears filling his eyes.

"What is this?" he asks, voice scathing. "Did you have no other suspects? Is _that_ why you're settling for Tom?"

"Mr. Potter," Albus interrupts sternly. "I know this may be hard for you to hear, but it's the truth. Now, will you help us catch him?"

"No," Harry responds immediately. "Mr. Dumbledore, you have just asked me to implicate my innocentboyfriend in the hopes that _you_ can finally catch a crime boss you have been unable to corner for _years_."

"He's _killing_ people, Harry," Albus lets out furiously. "You are a mere cover for him."

For a moment, silence rings out around them. Harry stands, his normally expressive emerald eyes blank.

"What proof do you have?" he finally asks. His voice is calm, almost deathly so, and a feeling of trepidation makes itself known in the pit of Albus' stomach.

"A witness," he eventually says. He reaches towards his suitcase and pulls out a tan folder. With a gentle shove, he pushes it towards Harry. The emerald-eyed man takes the folder and looks inside of it, his expression not changing even as he reads its contents.

After several moments, he throws the folder on the table and leaves without a backwards glance. Behind him, Albus reaches out to pick up the folder. He pauses when he sees a photo hanging out from it: Familiar crimson eyes, alight with rage, gleam from within the photo. A knife is brandished within the man's hands, its sharp blade being pressed against the throat of a young woman. Blood coats their surroundings, and a bloody message resides on the wall.

"I AM LORD VOLDEMORT."

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

When Tom walks into the room, he is not prepared to see Harry sitting up in bed, his eyes downcast. Tears leak from those beautiful emeralds, and Tom feels a pang of concern.

"What's wrong, love?" he questions softly, coming to sit next to Harry. Gently, he pulls the twenty-year-old close, allowing him to seek solace in his warmth.

"Tom, you love me, don't you?" the younger man asks instead, looking up. Those beautiful emeralds peer into his eyes pleadingly, _begging_ him to say yes, and Tom can't help but loathe whoever made Harry doubt his love for him.

"Of course I do," he replies with honesty. "I love you so much I can't even tell where you begin and I end."

Harry sniffs, shifting in Tom's hold.

"You meant what you said during Hermione's visit, right?"

Tom looks at him with curiosity, encouraging him to go on.

"That you aren't secretive and frigid with me?"

Tom pulls Harry closer and places a gentle kiss onto his forehead.

"Darling, I have never been more vulnerable than when I'm with you. You know me more than anyone."

"I love you, Tom," Harry insists. "I love you so much it hurts."

"And I love you. Now, cuddle with me?"

Harry nods and allows Tom to pull him back so they can recline on the bed, wrapped up within each other's arms.

He knows what he must do. Tom loves him and he loves Tom. Now, all he must do is prove Tom's innocence. Determined green eyes slowly shut. Before that, however, he'll enjoy whatever warmth Tom can provide.

Momentous changes await them.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Mr. Potter," Albus greets, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'll do it," Harry tells him softly. "However, when Tom is proven innocent, I demandthat you apologize to both him and I."

"That's reasonable. Very well. Are you prepared to begin?"

"Yes," Harry vows. He glares at the older man, hating that he needs to do this. Hopefully, Tom will forgive him in the end.

"Then, let us start."

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"What is this?" Harry asks, his voice high. He glares at the offending tube of lotion, scowling when Albus laughs.

"It's a scientific compound known as Out to Lunch Fake Mustache. Essentially, what it does is speed up hair growth on any body part you rub the lotion on."

"Is _this_ what the police department uses our tax dollars for?" Harry asks. Dumbledore nods, unrepentant.

"You'll see its effects in no time."

"How do I remove it?" Harry asks hesitantly.

"You'll shave it," Albus replies, smiling.

With a remorseful sigh, Harry takes the offending lotion and gently places it on his upper lip, scowling when a dark mustache instantly forms.

"Science is weird," he tells him.

"But you must admit it's useful," Dumbledore cuts in, chuckling. Harry grumbles. Tom is lucky he loves him.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

A few hours later, a perfectly disguised Harry sits in a café, watching as his boyfriend orders two coffees. He instantly knows one is for him, and can't help but smile slightly at how adorable Tom is. With murky, brown eyes, he watches as his boyfriend heads out of the café, no doubt on his way home to deliver Harry his morning coffee.

Relaying the events into a small recorder given to him by Albus, he hurries home. Tom, it seems, is taking the long way, so he rushes to the bathroom, attempting to change as he shaves the mustache. He's sure he looks weird, but who cares? Anyone would, once they found out their boyfriend may be Lord Voldemort.

When Tom finally opens the door, Harry's perched on their bed, seemingly engrossed in a book. He accepts the coffee with a graceful smile and a kiss. When Tom reaches out to pull him closer to him, Harry acquiesces him, attempting to bury the guilt that rises in his chest.

 _This is for the greater good,_ he tells himself. _Tom's name must be cleared. It must._

With an inward nod, he pushes his feelings aside. He has a mission to do, and he _will_ complete it.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Harry continues to spy on Tom throughout the day, and ends up learning new things about his boyfriend. Tom, bless his soul, tries his best to pick up little trinkets and treats throughout the day and leaves them in places that Harry will inevitably check by nightfall. It's so cute, it makes Harry want to melt.

However, Harry has also learned that Tom is indeed very secretive. Sure, he tells Harry mostly everything, but there are some things he doesn't tell. For instance, Harry has never known about the heavily guarded building Tom sneaks into for hours, only to come back out with nothing.

Harry has never known about the visits to pawnshops the man makes, has never known about the blond man that occasionally meets up with Tom at the café. While one would suspect Tom of cheating, Harry knows better than that. Tom would _never_ cheat. That just leaves one option: Tom is doing something that may not be legal.

Harry has tried to deny the glaring facts. He tried to convince himself that maybe, Tom has taken up drugs, had taken up pimping. Anything to exclude the possibility that he may be Voldemort.

Then, he comes across _it_. The damn document that tells him everything he needed and didn't want to know.

It's only a short message—one letting Tom know that Lord Voldemort's shipment of AK-47's would be coming tomorrow, at a dock on the outskirts of town, but that's all Harry needs.

Tom is Lord Voldemort. His boyfriend is Voldemort. His sweet, charming, adorable, and kind boyfriend is _Lord Voldemort._

In that moment, Harry loses it. Distantly, he hears Dumbledore rounding up his troops in the walkie-talkie, but he cannot focus on that.

Tom, the love of his life, has lied to him.

Perhaps, love hasn't been enough. Despite that thought, Harry can't help but feel his love moving around wildly in his veins. Despite knowing the truth, he is still madly in love with him.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Why'd you lie to me, Tom?" Harry asks softly. Said man pauses in the doorway, his red eyes taking in the exhaustion that radiates from every pore of Harry's body.

"What are you talking about?" he asks cautiously. Harry looks at him, his gaze knowing.

"I think we both know what I'm talking about," he returns softly. "Tom, or should I say, Voldemort?"

"It's not what you think, Harry," Tom hastens to say, his eyes wide. He looks scared, fragile, and it breaks Harry's heart, but he has to continue. He _must_.

"Don't lie to me, Tom," Harry whispers. "I _trusted_ you. The leastyou could do is tell the truth."

"I was just trying to protect you," he vows. "They were threatening to hurt you. I had to protect you. I _needed_ to protect you."

"More lies, Tom? When will you ever tell me the _truth_?"

Tom looks desperate, his pupils blown wide.

"The first kill was to protect you. _He_ wanted you. The baby that could make the demented child harmless." Tom, finally calms down. "You were a miracle to him. You are someone who can _control_ me, but he couldn't have you. _No one_ can have you."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asks, tone skeptical.

"Grindelwald," Tom responds. " _He_ put me on this path. When his lover, Albus, swore revenge, I knew what I had to do. I had to gain influence, had to be able to fightwhen the time came."

"Albus? Albus Dumbledore?"

Tom nods fiercely, the gleam in his eyes not leaving.

"He will destroy us, Harry. Promise me you'll stay away from him _."_

"It's too late, Tom," a voice interrupts. They both look towards the door, stunned when they see Albus Dumbledore standing there, an army of men behind him.

"I've come to make good on my promise, Tom," Albus says. "You killed Gellert, and, in return, you will pay."

"He tried to kill Harry," Tom protests. "You can't take me down. It was to protect my boyfriend."

"Oh, but I can," Albus says, smiling. Gesturing towards the men behind him, he watches as they rush forward to pull the crimson-eyed man into their grasp. They handcuff him promptly, and ignore Harry as he viciously fights to get to his beloved.

He's too late, though. Quickly, they bring Tom to the car out front and throw him in, delighting in his struggle to get to Harry.

Albus watches from the sidelines, a vindictive smile on his face. Finally, balance has been restored.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Dark, gray clouds cover the sky, tiny droplets of moisture escaping rapidly. Each drop hits the ground with a low thud, unheard due to the growing wind. Located in an all-white room, Tom Marvolo Riddle sits in his chair, his knees curled up to his chest. Tears slowly escape his crimson eyes, speaking of the inner turmoil that plagues him. Every so often, he slowly opens his eyes and peer around, his gaze searching for something that's not there.

"Harry," he eventually whispers, voice pleading. "Come back to me soon, love."

There is no answer. The tears come faster.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **QLFC, Finals Round 1, Keeper "Out to Lunch Fake Mustaches"**

 **Elemental Magic - Assignment 5 - Write about the theme of opposites attract.**


	198. Drabble 198: TomHarry

**Title: A Broken Heart**

 **Pairing: Tom x Harry (What can I say? They're my OTP. :D)**

 **Rating: Mature**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _Tom leans down, his lips ghosting along Harry's own._

 _"_ _You're beautiful, love," he whispers, his lips hovering teasingly along his boyfriend'_ _s. "Especially, when you're writhing in pleasure…"_

 _As if to prove his point, he leans down to nip at the exposed column of Harry's throat, smirking when the younger boy releases a high-pitched moan. Hands moving down to cup the growing budge between Harry's legs, he relishes in the soft whimper of his name. Harry only makes these noises for him – no one else. This was his heaven – one that he'd be sure to treasure for eternity._

 _As if that is a signal, their surroundings begin to fade away, leaving only them in its wake. Tom, startled, reaches out to pull Harry closer, but he is too late. The emerald-eyed teen slowly fades away, darkness replacing his form._

 _"_ _Harry?" Tom calls out hesitantly. The darkness wraps around him, threatening to pull him into it, and he gets no response._

 _"_ _Harry!" he calls urgently. When he doesn't get another response, he feels the beginnings of fear make itself known inside the pit of his stomach. What is going on?_

 _"_ _Tom." Harry's voice finally rings through the darkness. Tom perks up, his hand reaching out, desperately attempting to find his beloved._

 _"_ _Where are you, Harry?" he asks, his voice becoming more urgent when he realizes he can't feel Harry._

 _"_ _I'm everywhere," Harry responds. True to his words, his voice seems to be coming from all around them. What trickery is this?_

 _"_ _Enough with the games, Harry," Tom orders, becoming more and more frustrated. He doesn't like this. Not one bit._

 _"_ _We're done, Tom," Harry continues, as if he hadn't even heard him. The Dark Lord seethes._

 _"_ _What do you mean, we're done?" Tom settles for asking. Harry sighs, the sound echoing around them._

 _"_ _I'm through with you," he elaborates. "You've grown boring; senile, almost, and I just don't desire you anymore."_

 _When the full weight of Harry's words set in, Tom freezes, his face blanching._

 _"_ _What?" he asks dumbly, unable to process the fact that Harry, his Harry, would ever say such cruel things. Alas, it seems things were not meant to be in his favor._

 _"_ _Goodbye, Tom."_

 _As suddenly as he came, Harry left. Now alone, Tom breaks down, years of repressed insecurities rising within him._

 _A minute later, crimson eyes open abruptly, their depths searching desperately for Harry._

"Tom?" Harry's voice breaks through the fog of panic, and Tom slowly calms down. "What's wrong?"

A hand, pale and sweaty, reaches out to gently cup Harry's cheek.

"You frighten me," a silky voice confides. "Your love is my dream, and your hate is my nightmare."

"That shouldn't frighten you, though," Harry responds, nuzzling into the warm hand. Tom smiles down at him, his other hand reaching up to card through Harry's hair.

"You're elusive, like a dream. Sometimes, I wonder if I'll see you when I wake up."

"You don't need to worry about that," Harry hums. His serene grin turns wicked, his green eyes flashing with unrestrained mischief. "I'd miss the sex too much."

"Touché," Tom laughs. Smiling, he pulls Harry closer, only unrelenting when Harry's practically on his lap. "Stay with me. Always."

"You don't have to ask for that, Tom," Harry chides with a grin. He leans in close, only stopping when their lips are a mere hairsbreadth away. "I am yours. Wherever you go, I'll follow."

When the concern fades from Tom's eyes, Harry finally closes the distance between them, sighing in bliss when those perfect lips mold against his.

This is perfection.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **February Event - New Year Zodiac Challenge - Rooster - Write a story, in which, Tom Riddle Junior is afraid of something.**


	199. Drabble 199: TomHarry

**Title: Darkened Eyes**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"I'm tired, Hermione," Harry confides with a rueful shake of his head. "Every time I fall in love, I end up with a broken heart. Maybe, I'm just meant to be alone."

"That's not true, Harry," Hermione tells him. She pats his back soothingly. "You're just falling for the wrong guys."

"How do I know when I find the right one? I thought I dodged a bullet when I realized I was gay, but guys are just as high maintenance as girls and – ow!"

"Have you forgotten that I'm a girl, Harry?" Hermione asks sweetly. Harry blanches and slowly shakes his head, realizing his mistake.

"Of course not, Hermione. You're the only girl who isn't high maintenance," he repeats slowly. Hermione merely rolls her eyes.

"Perhaps, you're taking it too seriously?" she suggests softly. "Have you ever tried to just date? You know, without worrying about love and marriage?"

Harry looks at her and shakes his head slowly.

"Then, perhaps you should consider a no strings attached relationship? That way, you can get your physical frustrations out of the way, and your relationship can progress without the constant worrying. If you fall in love with each other, great! If you don't, no harm done."

"What if I fall for him, but he doesn't fall for me?" Harry asks softly.

"Then, I'll beat his ass myself. Listen, you're a great guy. It's a shame you haven't found the right guy."

"Do you think I will?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione says sincerely. "Out of any of us, I'm sure you'll get your happily ever after."

Harry grins, warmth radiating through his veins. Leaning in, he hugs Hermione and whispers a quiet thank you in her ears.

"I'll try it," he tells her. "Let's see how it goes."

When Hermione bids him good luck, Harry departs, a fiery flame of determination within his eyes.

It's time to find a fuck buddy.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Surprisingly, it doesn't take long for Harry to find someone he wouldn't mind getting down and dirty with.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is a tall man, one with enchanting crimson eyes. His build is lithe, yet it hints at a subtle strength, something that excites Harry to no end. The emerald-eyed teen, having been entranced, immediately went to talk to the man and, surprisingly, they hit it off. After an hour, Harry is pressed against the wooden door of their neighborhood café's bathroom, his clothes stripped from his body. Tom is pressing against him, his lean body providing a wonderful reminder as to what is transpiring.

When the crimson-eyed man leans down to nibble at his throat, Harry shivers, a heady moan escaping his throat.

"Please," he begs weakly, whimpering when a sneaky hand wraps around his hard length. "More…"

"No," Tom replies, smirking wickedly when Harry moans, the sound high and needy.

"What do you mean, no?" Harry asks, arching up into him. Tom pulls away, delighting in the utterly debauched look Harry sports.

"I want this to last," he elaborates. "When I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk for _weeks_."

Despite himself, Harry can't help but arch into the warm body over his. God, how he needs that right now.

Tom leans in close, only stopping when his lips ghost along the shell of Harry's ear, evoking a shiver from the emerald-eyed teen.

"Shall we begin?"

At Harry's enthusiastic nod, Tom can't help but smirk wickedly. Such an adorable pet he has found…

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Daily Prompt Thread - January 29th, 2017 - Prompt: "What do you mean, no?"**


	200. Drabble 200: Tom x Harry

**Title: Surviving, Not Falling**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

" _Don't fall in love with the good, easy, put together parts of me. Fall in love with the mess that I am, fall in love with the chaos of my eyes, and the storms in my heart."_

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Silence rings out. Icy, green eyes peer over at Tom, their depths filled with absolutely nothing. In return, emotionless crimson eyes meet the gaze head on.

"Why'd you do it, Tom?" Harry asks softly. He gestures towards the blood-stained floor, an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

"I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me," Tom replies. His gaze is unwavering and a storm begins to brew behind his eyes. "This is a symbol of my love."

"Once upon a time, you preached that love would be your downfall, said that you'd never allow yourself to be so weak. Do you not feel the same now?"

"Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and the fear of an end."

"Even so, would you be willing to spend that eternity with me? I have nightmares, you know? Every night, I wake up screaming, my hands clawing at some invisible attacker. I can't forget the horrors that Lord Voldemort has done to me."

"You don't need to," Tom tells him tenderly. He reaches out, his hand ghosting along Harry's cheek. "If one looks for perfection, they will never be content."

"Are you sure about this, Tom?" Harry questions softly. He looks at the body on the floor, his expression pensive. "If you choose to be with me, this won't be your only kill."

"I know," Tom tells him. "The horrors you've endured during the war has warped you. Whereas you once stood for light, you now stand for darkness. I admire people who choose to shine, even after all of the storms they've been through."

Harry snorts, the sound loud in the silent room.

"I'd hardly call this something so pure," he tells Tom. "I'm not shining, I'm falling."

"No," Tom says sternly. He pulls his hand away and takes a step forward. Gently, his hand wraps around Harry's waist, pulling him flush against him. "Despite how far you've fallen, you still maintain such purity within your soul. You're surviving, not falling."

"I'm broken, Tom," Harry whispers. "Countless lives have been taken by me. Ever since that _thing_ invaded my mind, I've slowly begun to fall apart."

"It makes you better, Harry. You're becoming stronger, more resilient. Yes, Voldemort's final horcrux may have invaded your mind, but you're learning how to control it."

"But-"

"No, Harry. When I was inside of the diary, you tried to get me out, even though I was a horcrux. I was the strongest of us all. My mind was formidable, but you didn't hesitate when you tried to free me."

"You're different, Tom," Harry tries to say, but Tom interrupts him.

"I'm not. When I was freed, I had planned to betray you, but you made me want to stay by your side. You made me _obey_ you, Harry, and that's no easy feat."

He looks at the younger man, trying to will him to understand.

"You usurped me, and I'm sure you can do the same to him."

"I'm scared, Tom," Harry whispers softly. "My mind is in chaos."

"What can I do?" Tom questions, softly.

"If you love me like you say you do," Harry begins, his voice shaking. For the first time in their conversation, he truly seems like the broken doll he claims to be. "Make it so that I'm at peace."

Tom nods and leans down to capture his lips, relishing in the heat that floods the room. Here, in this blood-stained chamber, the two make love, their impassioned cries echoing around them. Their only witness is the corpse that lies in the corner, oblivious to the life changing event that just took place.

Harry Potter and Tom Riddle have united.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Convince Me Competition - Round 9 - Tom x Harry**

 **The Ultimate Patronus Quest - Pixie - Write a non-canon pairing.**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** **1\. Quotes (love/romantic) - Anna Karenina - "If you look for perfection, you will never be content." 2. Quotes (love/romantic) - Anna Karenina - "If you love me as you say you do, make it so that I'm at peace." 3. Quotes (love/romantic) - Relationship Quotes - "Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and the fear of an end." 4. Quotes (love/romantic) - Relationship Quotes - "I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me." 5. Quotes (love/romantic) - Famous Writers - "I admire people who choose to shine, even after all of the storms they've been through."**


	201. Drabble 201: RabastanLucius

**Title: Darkened Skies**

 **Pairing: Rabastan Lestrange x Lucius Malfoy**

 **Rating: Mature**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Silence encompasses the room.

Rabastan Lestrange, renowned psychiatrist, sits in his plush armchair patiently. Cool, brown eyes stare ahead, their depths taking in the slight twitch of the blonde's fingers.

Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy estate, sits across from him, faux confidence coming off him in waves. His back is straight, and he meets Rabastan's gaze head on. Despite himself, Rabastan's lips twitch upwards, only to fall back into their neutral stance.

"Mr. Malfoy," he begins softly, patiently. Lucius inclines his head, urging him to continue. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Narcissa," Lucius tells him. "She wouldn't stop raving about her psychiatrist. Brilliant, she called you."

"Ah, but that doesn't explain why you're here, Sir," he returns. Lucius smirks.

"She thinks there's something wrong with me," he confides.

"Is there?"

"No," Lucius says, rolling his eyes. "You know how Narcissa is. Once she makes up her mind about something, she'll see it through."

"So, you obeyed her," Rabastan muses softly. "Does it irritate you?"

"Already trying to psychoanalyze me?" Lucius asks teasingly, grinning. Rabastan shrugs.

"If you must know," the blonde says, "it doesn't. It's one of the reasons I fell for her."

Rabastan stares at him, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"You fell for her?" he inquires softly. Lucius pauses minutely, his grin falling.

"Yes," he says. If it weren't for the slight tremor in his voice, Rabastan might have believed him.

"What do you feel for her, Mr. Malfoy?" he asks. His voice is low, soothing.

"Love, of course," Lucius says. "She makes me happy."

"That's only a half-truth, though, isn't it?" Rabastan questions softly. "She makes you happy, yes, but that's because you love her like a sibling."

"And how, pray tell, did you reach that conclusion?" Lucius asks. To the untrained ear, he'd sound amused at best, but Rabastan knows the truth. He smiles widely.

"The way you talk about her," he begins. "You're fond, yes, but you're not speaking of her like a lover would."

"Touché," Lucius says after a moment, his hand reaching up to curl around a blonde lock. "What else do you know about me, Doc?"

"Not a Doctor, Mr. Malfoy," Rabastan gently corrects. Judging by the grin on the blonde's face, he already knew that. "To answer your question, though, I know that you're afraid to love."

"How?"

"Whenever someone says the word love, you cringe slightly."

Lucius stares at him for a moment, silent. Eventually, he opens his mouth, something flashing in his eyes.

"You're right," he says softly. "I am afraid to love. It doesn't exactly take a genius to figure it out."

"What I want to know, though, is why," Rabastan interjects tenderly. "You can talk to me, Mr. Malfoy."

"Lucius," Lucius says unconsciously. "Call me Lucius."

Rabastan smiles.

"Lucius," he corrects, testing the name. His smile widens. "Tell me about yourself."

"I am not drunk enough to have this conversation," Lucius muses to himself. Rabastan rolls his eyes in amusement. "For one, I have an eye for fashion, and _this_ ," he gestures at the room, "is just not cutting it."

"Sorry, Lucius," Rabastan says. "Had I known you were coming, I would have redecorated."

A lie, of course, but it gets the expected reaction. Lucius throws his head back, a laugh ripping itself from his throat.

"Forgiven," he says when he finally calms down. "Anyway, my eye for fashion led to me meeting someone, a male someone, if you catch my drift."

Rabastan nods.

"He promised me the world, you know. Every day, he'd proclaim his love for me. He'd kiss me passionately, hold me sweetly, tell me that I was the peanut butter to his jelly…"

Lucius grins and Rabastan chuckles.

"He made me happy."

He trails off, a sad look in his eye.

"What happened next?" Rabastan questions softly, urging him to continue. The faraway look slowly vanishes, replaced by bitterness.

"Happiness doesn't last long," he continues. "Slowly, he changed. His kisses became more possessive, his tender caresses became searing, his peanut better slowly turned to mold. Suddenly, there was no more love in our relationship. To him, I was a possession. Nothing more than a doll he could toy with…"

"Lucius," Rabastan finally interrupts. His voice is calm, but his eyes are alight with a harsh storm. "Did he ever hit you?"

Steely, silver eyes meet his own, the owner refusing to speak. The storm in Rabastan's eyes grows stronger.

"If you don't get it off your chest, you'll never be able to breathe."

"He did," Lucius finally admits softly. "Several times, in fact, but I could take it. I'm not fragile, not _damaged_."

"Lucius," Rabastan gently interjects. "We're all damaged somehow. You don't have to be afraid of that."

"True," Lucius concedes, "but this is different. My self-worth plummeted. When he saw me, he only told me on what to improve on. He wanted a trophy, wanted someone he could show off to his friends. Slowly, he turned me into that someone. Once upon a time, I was strong, confrontational. With him, all of it went away. By the end of our relationship, I was completely reliant on him."

"You are strong, Lucius," Rabastan tells him. "You have to be strong to be able to tell me what you just did."

"I wish I could believe that, Doc," he whispers. "I don't trust words anymore. I only trust actions. People can pretend to do a lot without being serious about it."

"You can trust me, though," Rabastan says. He means it. While, he normally urges his patients to trust him so he can help them, he finds that he really means it this time. He _wants_ Lucius to trust him with this, wants the blonde to come to him should he need reassurance on anything.

"I know I can," Lucius says softly. "That's not the problem. The worst thing is waking up in the morning just as sad as you were the night before. The anger and sadness coils within me, desperately attempting to get out, but it can't. I'm afraid of defiling what little love I have left in my soul."

Rabastan really wants to say that Lucius doesn't have to be afraid, that he'd protect him as he let his anger out, but he can't. The man is a patient, one who doesn't even _know_ Rabastan. It's only thanks to Narcissa that he knows Lucius so well. That's the only reason he can read the blonde. Opening his mouth to say something, _anything_ to get the bitter look off Lucius' face, he's disappointed when the timer goes off in the distance. Lucius stands, casting him a small smile.

"I suppose I should go," he mummers. Reaching out, he grabs Rabastan's hand and shakes it firmly. "Thank you for the session, Doc."

Just like that, he's gone, leaving Rabastan alone. Sadness fills his heart, but it is immediately vanquished when the psychiatrist notices the small card left on the chair Lucius had sat on.

 _Call me, Doc._

 _Lucius_

The man's number is on the back of the card, and Rabastan can't help the red blush that paints his cheeks. Despite that, his heart fills with happiness and he can't help but smile widely.

Perhaps, this might not be the end, after all.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Randomly Generated Pairing Challenge - Rabastan Lestrange x Lucius Malfoy - (color) Red.**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank - 1.** **Quotes (love/romantic) - Anna Karenina - "He was afraid of defiling the love which filled his soul."** **2\. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Unknown - "If you don't get it off your chest, you'll never be able to breathe."** **3\. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Unknown - "The worst thing is waking up in the morning just as sad as you were the night before."** **4\. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Unknown - "I don't trust words anymore. I only trust actions. People can pretend to do a lot without being serious about it."** **5\. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Great Literary Quotes - "We're all damaged somehow."**


	202. Drabble 202: CharlieDominique

**Title: Destruction of the Wicked Fog**

 **Pairings: Bill/Charlie (Past), Charlie/Dominique.**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Characters: Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Dominique Weasley, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy.**

 **Warnings: Death of a loved one, mentions of birth, boy x boy, boy x girl, relationship with a minor.**

 **Summary: When Charlie loses his partner on a job gone wrong, he loses all motivation to live. However, when Dominique, the very person he despises, comes into his life, he can't help but become fond of the child. What will Harry Potter, his best friend, have to say about this?**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Everyone is silent as Charlie strides into the Burrow. They all turn to look at him, some with varying degrees of curiosity, but one thing is the same: Every single face is marred with an ugly grimace, sadness coiling deep within their gazes.

"Charlie," he hears Harry whisper, his throat raspy from crying. The red-head doesn't turn towards him, fearful of the tears that he may reveal to his relatives. Rather, he makes his way towards the stairs, shrugging off the heavy hand that wraps around his shoulder.

"Leave me alone," he hears himself croak. "Please…"

The hand retreats and Charlie can practically _feel_ the brunt of Harry's gaze as he analyzes him.

"Okay," the green-eyed boy finally relents, "but I'll be in to check on you later, okay?"

Charlie nods and rushes up the stairs, needing to get away lest he lose himself. He barely makes it into the room; as soon as the door closes, he's sliding down the door, tears streaming down his face in an endless river.

"Bill," he whispers, his voice tinged with hysteria. "Bill, Bill, Bill, _Bill_ …"

No one responds, and the tears come faster.

William Arthur Weasley is dead.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Charlie?" Harry asks softly. Slowly, he opens the elder Weasley's door, sadness clouding his mind when he sees the man curled up in a ball by the door. Walking into the room, he tenderly shakes the other, sighing when blue eyes flutter open. "You okay?"

"I miss him, Harry," Charlie says, voice raw. "Our flame of love is now just a cold loneliness. There's a quote, ' _Sometimes, when he's missing, the world seems depopulated_ ,' I never knew what it meant until this happened."

"Don't talk like that," Harry chides. "Bill wouldn't want to see you this way. He'd want you to-"

"He's dead, Harry," Charlie says with a mirthless chuckle. "He doesn't want anything. Not anymore."

"What about Dominique?" Harry asks softly. "In a couple months, that baby is going to be born, and she's going to need someone who cares. You, Charlie, she's going to need you."

"She has Fleur," the red-head replies bitterly.

"Don't condemn a baby because of past mistakes," Harry advises. "Fleur is a good person, but she's not cut out to be a mother. In her world, the maids take care of the children. She's going to need you, Charlie."

"He slept with her, Harry," Charlie croaks. "We were on a break, yes, but he still slept with her. That baby – that wretched, little baby – is a symbol of treachery. The marks he left… They are scars, Harry. He may not have realized it, but that baby, the one he so thoughtlessly conceived, is a reminder that he was willing to forget about me. No matter what you may think, the marks humans leave are too often scars. How am I to move past that?"

"When babies first come into the world, they are innocent. Dominique won't know anything of the past. She won't know that her dad broke your heart, won't know that her mother won't be able to truly be there for her. That's why it's up to _you_ to make sure that she's taken care of, to make sure that her daddy's love is delivered. Didn't you always say you wanted children? Domonique could be that for you."

"But she's not," Charlie says. "Fleur is her mother; not me. How could I possibly spend the rest of my life pretending that she's my child, that she was the baby created by Bill and I? The pain would be unimaginable."

"Perhaps," Harry concedes, "but this isn't just you anymore. Sure, Bill messed up, but Dominique didn't. Just think about it, okay? Be there for her birth and decide then."

"Fine," Charlie gives in warily, "but I'm making no promises.

"That's okay," Harry tells him. "You'll see what I'm talking about when you're looking into those cute little eyes."

At Charlie's hesitant look, he sits down on the floor next to him, leaning in to cuddle the other.

"Want to watch something on the telly?" he asks. When he receives no answer, he reaches for the remote and switches it on.

Charlie stares at the TV screen blankly, but Harry doesn't call him out on it. Instead, he pulls a blanket over to them and rambles throughout the movie, not expecting a response.

Charlie will respond when he's ready. That, he's sure of.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Three months later, the loud cries of a Veela echoes through the room. True to his word, Charlie is standing there with her, his hand clamped in Fleur's sweaty one. Inwardly, he hides his distaste.

"Push!" the medical nurse orders. With one last push, a baby comes out, falling into her waiting hand. Fleur sags in her seat, rolling her eyes when Charlie abruptly releases her hand and wipes his own on the blankets.

"Here she is," the nurse cheers. "Dominique Arthur Weasley, born at 12:52 am."

Fleur smiles, the first one she's given since Bill died, and reaches towards the baby. Charlie, who had previously looked upon the scene in disdain, feels his eyes go wide when he finally catches a glimpse of the beautiful baby.

Soft, blond wisps cover her pale head, and beautiful blue eyes peer back at him. A splattering of freckles line her cheeks, and Charlie can't help but release a shaky breath.

Bill. She reminds him of _Bill._

For the first time in months, he smiles, reaching out to pluck the child out of Fleur's arms, ignoring the huff she gives in return. He pulls Dominique close, relishing in the warmth of the child.

He doesn't know how long he stands there holding her. He can't help but startle when Harry moves towards him, cooing softly in his ear. He looks up, unconsciously bringing Dominique into his protective hold, and relaxes when he sees the green-eyed boy and his husband, Draco.

"Have you made your decision?" Harry asks softly. Charlie nods slowly, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"Yes," he whispers. "Something magical has happened to me; like a dream when one feels frightened and creepy, and suddenly wakes up to the knowledge that no such terrors exist. I have awakened."

"Good," Harry tells him tenderly, a brilliant smile on his face. "I knew you would."

"I find myself, by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her; and I know that the happiest moment of my life will be what I spend with her," Charlie says. His voice is so wonderfully _wrecked_ , and Harry can't help but lean in to pull them both close.

"Whatever you need," he begins, "Draco and I will provide."

"Let's not be too hasty, Harry," Draco says quickly. "Sure, I don't mind babysitting, but I need my beauty sleep-"

"Draco, honey?" Harry begins softly. Draco looks at him questioningly. "Shut up, will you?"

"Shutting up," Draco says when he sees a certain fire within Harry's eyes. He even goes so far as to zip his mouth closed, Charlie notes in amusement.

"Don't worry," the red-head says softly. He gestures towards Dominique. "I'll take care of her."

"Good," Harry says. "Now, where's Ron? I have to tell her I won the bet!"

Amongst his loved ones, Charlie can't help but smile and look at the little angel. Harry was right. Bill may have cheated, but Dominique was innocent.

"I love you," he whispers tenderly. A toothy smile is given in return.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Baton Pass Challenge - Team Aldira and Fire - Round 1 - Pairing: Charlie/Dominique - Object: Blanket**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank:** **1\. Quotes (love/romantic) - Jane Austen - "Yes, I find myself, by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her; and the happiest moments of my life were what I spent with her." 2. Quotes (love/romantic) - Anna Karenina - "Something magical has happened to me: like a dream when one feels frightened and creepy, and suddenly wakes up to the knowledge that no such terrors exist. I have wakened up. 3. Quotes (love/romantic) - Relationship Quotes - "Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated." 4. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - John Green - "The marks humans leave are too often scars." 5. Quotes (love/romantic) - Relationship Quotes - "The flame of love is now just a cold loneliness."**

 **Word Count: 1,335**


	203. Drabble 203: RabastanPeter

**Title: A Lonely Life**

 **Platonic Pairing: Rabastan Lestrange x Peter Pettigrew**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Summary: When faced with anger and loneliness, how far will Peter go?**

 **A/N: Written for the Semi-Finals of Quidditch League. This is a submission by Firediva0, the Keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps. Her prompt was Peter Pettigrew's Silver Hand.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Rabastan looks out of the window, his gaze blank. Absently, he watches as raindrops fall from the heavens, hitting the ground with light thumps. Leaning back in his chair, he pays the warm body in front of him no mind. Peter, having grown uncomfortable with the tense silence, fidgets within his chair.

"I'm sorry," he whispers softly. "Had I known it would come to this, I would have never-"

"Don't apologize," Rabastan finally says. "You can't change the past. Only the future."

"I know, but-"

A hand, pale in nature, is raised.

"No buts," Rabastan tells him. "Instead of apologizing, I want you to tell me what really happened."

"I told you," Peter protests. "The hand tried to kill me, and-"

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it," Rabastan says, staring at him knowingly, a hard glint in his gray eyes. "The truth, Peter."

"Fine," Peter relents. He looks out of the window for a long moment, his expression slowly turning neutral. His stance relaxes, his breaths evening out. If he shows how affected he is, he won't be able to speak.

"When I first met Sirius, James, and Remus, I was a mere child. My mother, had been absent most of my life, and growing up like that had left me cold and barren inside. Those three were the only chance at warmth, the only chance at living a life that was worth living I had ever encountered. They were so different from me. Sirius was the funny one, James was the brave one, and Remus was the smart one. They all had roles; they all had something to _give_. In contrast, I had nothing. I wasn't funny, brave, or smart. To this day, I don't know what they saw in me. Regardless, we became friends."

Rabastan looks on, his expression neutral. When Peter pauses, his expression is pensive, he patiently waits for Peter to continue.

"Months went by, happiness warring with elation. For the first time in years, I was _accepted_. I had found people who enjoyed being with me, who enjoyed listening to the stupid things I'd say. I had never been so happy. Of course, things had to change. By our second year, the Marauders were legendary. People loved us, adored us even, but I soon found out the bitter truth. To our year-mates, I had never been a Marauder. I don't know if they thought I couldn't hear their whispers, that I couldn't tell how much they loathed me. Honestly, I hadn't known until I overheard. I remember freezing, my whole body being pushed back into the icy pit of despair I thought I had finally escaped… They broke me, Rabastan. Again, I found myself dying to hear someone say that I didn't need to try so hard to be perfect; that I was enough and it was okay."

Peter pauses once more, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Tears, unbidden, fall from his eyes.

"I tried so hard to be who they wanted me to be," he confides. After that day, I was determined to prove to everyone that I _was_ someone, that I was worthy of being a Marauder. I never could, though. No matter how much I did, their whispers never stopped. James, Sirius and Remus didn't notice. James and Sirius were loud and took credit for everything we did, and people knew Remus as the quiet clever one, so his contributions were taken for granted, but no one was willing to believe that I could add anything to the amazing things we, as a group, accomplished."

When emotion threatens to seep into his voice, Peter forces himself to stop talking. He looks up stubbornly, willing his tears to stop. They don't.

"I found myself contemplating suicide," he confides. "I wanted it to end. The pain, the whispers, the taunts; all of it. I needed them gone. That's when I met Lucius Malfoy. At first, I had been wary of the Slytherin, but he was kind to me. Tenderly, he told me that he had been watching me, that he was sure the Dark Lord could take my pain away and make me better than all of them. Foolishly, I agreed. I could only think, what is the point of being alive, if you don't at least try to do something remarkable?"

"I gave in to my thoughts and realized, when you do it, actually give in, you forget why you were fighting in the first place. Suddenly, I wasn't in it to prove myself to anyone. Rather, I was doing it because I _wanted_ to. I wanted to become more powerful, to become someone who could defeat them all. My friends, the ones who used to mean so much to me, suddenly meant nothing. When the Dark Lord asked for me to spy on the Order, I had no problem doing so. Even when he ordered me to tell him the location of James, Lily, and their baby, I had no problem doing so."

"Sure, I felt the loss when they died, but I was too caught up in the intense feeling of euphoria the power gave me. I did not mind framing Sirius, did not mind putting Remus in a position where he had to betray his best friend. In my mind, they had betrayed me by not accepting me wholly, by not seeing how others thought of me, and by not letting me stand out or even be acknowledged for the things I'd done. This was the least they deserved. Years later, when it was time for the Dark Lord to resurrect himself, I was ready. The man had always given his followers gracious rewards for their loyalty, I wanted that. Thus, I gave him my hand. Later, when he gave me the silver one, I knew there was something wrong with it. It'd whisper to me, would tell me that I could do unimaginable things with it, and despite my misgivings, I was not frightened. Like I had anticipated, I had been given a magnificent gift; one that would help me in my quest for power. If only I had known what a big mistake that was…"

"I never thought that the hand would have a mind of its own and its own will. When I spared Harry that day, I didn't think that it would try to kill me. Even now, I remember it's dark and heady voice, remember the _malice_ that coated its tone. _You will regret this,_ it said. _I once told you we could rip the entrails out of anyone we wanted to, all in the name of revenge. Now, it'll be different. I will rip you apart piece by bloody piece, relishing in every broken scream you release. Your Master gave me to you in gratitude, and this is how you repay him? You, Peter Pettigrew, will be cursed to the darkest pits of hell. Even God can't save you from our wrath and Merlin won't hear any prayers._ I remember the way the abominable hand clenched around my throat, drawing gasp after painful gasp out of me. I truly thought I was going to die…"

"Luckily, I managed to save you," Rabastan finally says, his voice rough with barely restrained emotion. Throughout his story, Peter had unknowingly shown him the raw pain he had felt all those years ago. Even Rabastan, who was known for being cold-blooded, couldn't help but feel his heart go out to the other. He couldn't imagine feeling that way his whole life. Luckily, he had his brother. Hell, even Bellatrix wasn't that bad of a person once you got to know her.

"People say that memories are supposed to warm you up inside. I think they forget that they can also tear you apart," Rabastan whispers. Peter nods, this time unable to stop the tear that escapes from his eyes.

"They say I am heartless, you know," he confides, softly. "They don't seem to realize that those who are heartless once cared too much."

"You're right," Rabastan says, "and that's why this can't go on. The Dark Lord is caught up in his own arrogance; he won't believe you managed to outsmart his silver hand."

"Won't it attack me again?" Peter asks, looking at the appendage in concern.

"It shouldn't," Rabastan tells him. "The spell I used to stop it from hurting you causes memory loss to a human. No doubt, the hand does not remember that you tried to betray your Master."

"So, if I don't betray him again, I'll be fine?" Peter asks hesitantly. At Rabastan's nod, Peter finally relaxes. After a moment, he stands up, stretching to relieve the ache in his back.

"In that case," he begins, "I have to go. The Dark Lord is expecting a report."

"Don't get yourself killed," Rabastan advises, nodding. He leads Peter to the door, pausing once they reach it. Awkwardly, he reaches out to hug the other man, determined to make him feel a semblance of warmth.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," he whispers to the other. "We're friends. No matter what."

At Peter's slow nod, he releases him and straightens up, coughing lightly in an effort to hide the slight blush that stains his cheeks.

When Peter walks out of the door, Rabastan can't help but hit himself in the head. What had he been thinking…? Despite himself, he can't stop the pink that stains his cheeks.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch League - Semi-Finals - Peter Pettigrew's Silver Hand.**

 **Gringotts Prompt Bank - 1. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - John Green - "What is the point of being alive if you don't at least try to do something remarkable?" 2. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Grey's Anatomy (Season 1-5) - "When you do it, actually give in, you forget why you were fighting in the first place." 3. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Unknown - "I was dying to hear someone say that I didn't need to try so hard to be perfect; that I was enough and it was okay." 4. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Unknown - "Those who are heartless once cared too much." 5. Quotes (angsty/tragic) - Great Literary Quotes - "Memories warm you up from the inside, but they also tear you apart."**

 **Word Count: 1,757**


	204. Drabble 204: RodolphusBellatrix

**Title: Deep Bonds**

 **Pairing: Rodolphus x Bellatrix, Rodolphus x Rabastan (Familial)**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Rain falls from the heavens, hitting the ground with light thumps. Around him, statues lay, shattered. The putrid stench of death surrounds him, threatening to choke him, and corpses of every shape and size litter the compound, but he can't focus on them. His mind is on Bellatrix, on the way her body used to press against his, on the way she used to whisper his name, on the way she used to bring him closer and closer, beckoning him forward with a teasing kiss to his lips.

Gently, almost hesitantly, he reaches out to her. His hand meets her cooling flesh, crimson staining the normally pale skin. His breathing stutters, his tears falling faster. His other hand rises, intent on pulling her body closer, but he can't do it. The images in his head change into new ones, each one worse than the last, and he can't _breathe_.

Bellatrix, his wife, is dead.

After everything they have been through; after all the hunts, the murders, and the escaping, she had finally _died_.

He never imagined he'd feel this hallow inside.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Rabastan gazes at his brother with concern. It's been months since Molly defeated Bellatrix, and Rodolphus showed no signs of improvement. The man had trapped himself in his room, refusing to come out for days, and Rabastan can't help but become more and more worried with each passing day. Sighing tiredly to himself, he makes his way to his brother's room.

"Rodolphus?" he inquires softly, knocking on the door. A muffled noise sounds from inside the room, and Rabastan rolls his eyes. "I know you can hear me."

"Go away," the voice says, louder this time. Huffing, Rabastan opens the door and strolls inside, merely smiling when his brother scowls at him.

"Come on," he orders. "Today, you're leaving this blasted room."

"I don't want to," Rodolphus protests with a shake of his head. "Besides, I can't leave the premises; it's too risky."

"I never said you had to," Rabastan counters with a chuckle. "I managed to find one of those muggle devices. You know, the thing that shows the images and sounds?"

"A telly?" Rodolphus questions tiredly. When Rabastan nods, he shakes his head. "Don't want to."

"Come on, Rodo," Rabastan complains. "I never get to see you anymore. I miss you, big brother."

"She died, 'Bastan," Rodolphus says, voice thick with emotion. "Pardon me if I can't pretend like it didn't happen."

"Last time I checked, you didn't really love each other," Rabastan counters, voice sharp. It's always been a sore topic for him. All his life, he'd picture Rodolphus growing up and having a family, of having a daughter that Rabastan could spoil. He never could, though. Ever since his brother's arranged marriage, all chances of a life filled with happiness vanished.

"The love we held was not romantic," Rodolphus agrees, "but that doesn't mean it wasn't there. We weren't interested in sex. Rather, we contented ourselves with holding hands, with kissing. Our bond was deeper than that of lovers. She was family, 'Bastan."

"If she is family," Rabastan ventures to say, "then you need not mourn. Do you really believe Bellatrix would be content knowing you didn't take care of yourself?"

When Rodolphus slowly shakes his head, something in Rabastan softens.

"I'm sure that she knows you miss her, Rodo, but you can't do this to yourself. You've grieved enough. Please, come watch the telly with me?"

Rabastan stares at him, pleadingly, silently willing his brother to understand. Sighing, Rodolphus nods, a small smile forming on his lips.

"Fine," he relents, "but I expect comfort food."

When silver eyes brighten, fondness enters Rodolphus' heart. Rabastan is right; it's time for him to move on. Besides, Bellatrix wouldn't want him to grieve for so long. Surely, she wants him to get justice for her death, wants him to destroy the whole Weasley family and prepare things for the Dark Lord's arrival.

Hmm… It seems he has his work cut out for him.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Assignment 7 – Charms – Write a story that takes place directly after the Battle of Hogwarts. Focus especially on how the survivors might feel. Extra Prompts: (object) shattered statues, (action) grieving, (word) death.**

 **Word Count: 667**


	205. Drabble 205: EuphemiaFleamont

**Title: Finding One's Voice**

 **Pairing: Euphemia/Fleamont**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

There are times, in which, Euphemia simply wants to yell at the world.

When she had met Fleamont, she was bewildered. Who knew such a sweet man existed? Most of the one's she had met had demanded her absolute obedience, demanded that she set aside her own aspirations and cater to their every whim. Of course, Euphemia never did. Each time she'd meet such a man, she'd scoff and roll her eyes. However, she knows time is not on her side. Her father, Lord Cornelius Archibald, wants her to marry soon. He would not be happy with her constant rejections, would not be happy that she didn't care to be the little housewife he wanted her to be.

"I just want to be free," she mumbles to herself softly, hands shaking. "At times, I wonder, does my father even care? If I were to be married to an abusive husband and gain wealth for my family, would he be content?"

Tears burn in her eyes, the answer stunningly clear in the silence that encompasses her room. Lying down, she curls into a ball, tears cascading down her cheeks. For the longest, she lays there, the searing feeling of defeat invading her.

"I just want to be happy," she whispers, hugging her body closer. An image of Fleamont appears in her mind's eye. His bright smile, beautiful hazel eyes, and soft features invade her mind. The very meaning of freedom.

Warmth invades her, his smile coaxing one out of her.

"I love you," she whispers, testing it out. She grins, admiring how the words caress her tongue. "I really, really love you."

Within the privacy of her room, she smiles.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"What's wrong, Euphie?" Fleamont asks, worry clouding his gaze. Euphemia looks at him, a small smile taking over her face.

"Nothing," she says, reaching out to grasp his hand within her own. She beams at him, leaning over to press a chaste kiss onto his cheek. "You're perfect."

He blushes, the color beautiful on his pale cheeks.

"What brought this on?" he questions. Euphie smiles wider, shaking her head fondly.

"You're different," she says. "Most guys are more arrogant. You, however, remind me of a best friend."

"Oh," Fleamont says, disappointment heavy in his tone. Euphie back tracks, leaning in to cuddle the other.

"Your boyfriend is supposed to be your best friend," she tells him. "I love you, but not in the way I could love an average friend."

"Do you?" Fleamont asks hopefully. Euphemia's eyes soften, a fond smile curling along the edges of her lips.

"I do," she says, leaning in to give him a proper kiss. Their lips connect, stars seeming to erupt from behind their eyelids, and everything feels perfect. However, Euphie knows what she must do.

She pulls back, staring into confused hazel eyes apologetically.

"My father," she hesitantly begins, "will not approve of our relationship."

She waits, fearing his reaction, and is surprised when long arms wrap around her.

"I know," Fleamont says simply. "Your father is a pureblood, yes? I know it's frowned upon for you to hook up with my family. After all, we were booted out from the _Sacred Twenty-Eight_."

"I don't care what he thinks, though," Euphemia says seriously, willing him to believe her. "I don't want to be someone's pet. I love you despite your family's standing. You are kind, gentle, and sweet, and did I say that I _love_ you?"

"I love you, too," Fleamont says, smiling. After a minute, his smile falters. "Although, you're not worried? I don't want you to get disowned because of me, Euphie."

"No one decides my fate but me," Euphemia says resolutely, fiery determination practically spewing from her eyes. "My father wants me to be a housewife; someone who will give him both prestige and money. I am not that person. I shouldn't have to _be_ that person. These days, women have been given few, if any, rights, and this ends now. I am my own person. I am not property, am not someone you can push around in the efforts to approve your own standing."

"You're right," Fleamont says. "You shouldn't have to go through this. You _are_ your own person, and I hope that you never feel less than that when you're with me."

"I don't," Euphie confesses, blushing slightly. "You make me feel like a princess with the way you talk to me, hanging onto every word I say. You make me feel warm inside."

"I will continue doing that," Fleamont promises. "Every day, every minute, every second. I'll do it as much as you need me to, as much as I need to in order to make sure that you know that I appreciate you for everything you do."

"You're adorable," Euphemia says after a moment, tearing up. "I love you."

"And I love you," Fleamont says with a goofy grin. "Forever and always."

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Assignment 8 - Gardening - Write about someone making peace with something/someone - Prompts: Shaking hands, hopeful. My explanation: Euphemia, who was experiencing turmoil because of her "designated" role in society, finally achieves peace. She comes to a decision; no matter what her father wants, she will not give up on her love for Fleamont. Hope this satisfies the prompt.**

 **Mother's Day Event - Female Appreciation - Euphemia Potter, determination, "No one decides my fate but me."**

 **Word Count: 817**


	206. Drabble 206: RonHermione

**Title: I'll Always Love You**

 **Pairing: Ron/Hermione**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

In the dead of night, Hermione wishes that she could be like Whitney Huston. She wishes that she could stand up there on stage and tell her beloved what she really thinks. At times, she'd even rise from their bed, her hairbrush in hand.

She'd do an exaggerated twirl, tears in her eyes, and mouth, _I'll Always Love You_. Her words would be straight from the heart, honest, and Ron would allow the powerful message to reach him.

Alas, she'd never have the courage to do that. She loves him too much to ever truly tell him how she feels. Yes, even if she is cursed to this wretched life, she'd embrace it. Even if it silently killed her, she'd stay with her husband.

" _Through thick and thin_ ," she remembers promising all those years ago. It's almost ironic how painfully true those words ring now.

Honestly, she had wanted to stick to that, too. However, she noticed the weary looks their children sent them, noticed the way her husband became intrigued by other women.

Her heart breaks even more.

In the silence of their shared room, she allows the tears to fall. Their marriage may be a broken one, but the love she feels for him is very much real.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"I don't know how it's come to this," she confides softly, staring at her best friend with something akin to exhaustion. "Once upon a time, we were happy. He used to pull me close and profess his love. He used to be so sweet, Harry. I had never known he could be so sweet."

She pauses, her eyes trailing upwards. She gazes at the ceiling, wistful.

"Back in the day, I thought he was false bravado. He was an idiot. Hell, he _is_ an idiot, but he's _my_ idiot. The things he used to talk about were so farfetched. They'd paint a picture of victory no matter what we did, and I used to think he was so stupid. I thought that he was a hopeful fool, that he had no intelligence to speak of. How wrong I was. When you guys saved me from the troll, I got a glimpse of the real Ron, one that I soon fell in love with."

Her gaze travels down again, this time finding Harry's green eyes.

"I love him," she tells him seriously. "I really do."

Harry nods silently.

"It's just, I don't know if I can take this anymore. Ever since my miscarriage, things just haven't been the same. Our love became flawed. Every day, we'd scream at each other, our exclamations growing more violent over time. Our kids feared us, Harry. I could see it in their faces. They knew we were crashing, perhaps even before I did, and I never paid it any attention. Well, until he began noticing other women, that is."

She pauses, her hand instinctively reaching for Harry's. The other acquiesces, offering her support.

"Don't get me wrong," she says, her voice softer than it's ever been. "He never cheated on me. Rather, his attention began to drift. The only reason he hasn't left me is because he still loves me."

"What do you plan on doing?" Harry asks, speaking up for the first time. His green eyes peer into her own, their depths searching. "Your relationship is toxic, by this point. At this rate, you'll begin to resent each other."

"I know," Hermione sighs. "That's why I've decided to take the burden upon myself. Ron will never leave me out of some misguided sense of love, so I'll have to let him go."

"What about you?" Harry asks, concerned. "I know you, Hermione. You wouldn't be able to handle ending it."

"This isn't just me anymore, Harry," Hermione says gently. "My kids can't live like this. Ron can't live like this. I am the mother, the role model. I think it's time for me to act like it."

"Be careful," Harry advises, reaching out to hug her. "I'm always here, okay? No matter what happens next, I will always be here for you."

"That's why I love you," Hermione confides, hugging him back. She nuzzles into his neck, enjoying the warmth he manages to provide. "No matter what happens, you're always there for us."

"I love you, too," Harry says. "Don't forget it either."

At Hermione's soft smile, he pulls back and looks at the clock.

"It's my turn to watch the kids, so I'll see you soon," Harry says, standing up. Hermione nods and escorts him out, a determined look on her face.

For both of their sakes, she'll fulfill her dream of becoming Whitney Huston, after all.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Assignment 8 - Ancient Runes - Write about someone making a brave sacrifice. Write about someone taking on a great responsibility. My Explanation: Hermione, who is in a toxic relationship with Ron, is forced to end it for both of their sakes.**

 **Mother's Day Event - Female Character Appreciation - Hermione Granger, Powerful, I'll Always Love You.**

 **Word Count: 780**


	207. Drabble 207: LuciusNarcissa

**Title: Stand Up and Fight**

 **Pairing: Lucius/Narcissa, Cygnus/Druella.**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Sometimes, one has no choice but to stand up and fight. Narcissa Black has learned this well.

It hadn't always been this way, though. Distantly, Narcissa can remember a past, in which, she was happy. Her smiles, which used to be so radiant, would light up the mansion, coaxing similar grins out of her normally stoic parents. Her silver eyes would gleam in wonder and excitement, their depths entranced by the enthralling sights before her. Lately, however, life has lost all sense of adventure.

It's become horribly dull. Her parents, who abide by strict rules, have no tolerance towards her strong and independent personality. In their eyes, she needs to welcome cooking and cleaning into her life, needs to absorb the fact that she is to be a housewife, no questions asked.

They are asking her to be a porcelain doll, one they can mold to their benefit.

" _It used to be cute,"_ her mother, Druella, once said, grimacing. _"Now, though, it's grown old."_

Narcissa remembers frowning at her mother, her molten silver eyes peering at her in curiosity.

" _Mother,"_ she remembers whispering. _"If I am not to be myself, who am I to be?"_

" _You are to be whatever your husband needs you to be,"_ Druella had said softly. _"In this world, happiness is something we have to work for. Consider this an investment in your future happiness."_

Narcissa remembers staring at her mother, noticing the dark bags that hung under her eyes for the first time. Druella had looked exhausted when she had told her that, almost worn out.

Within her heart, Narcissa could feel the pangs of something akin to fear. Distantly, she remembers her mother when she was younger, remembers the elegant poise she used to carry herself with.

" _Think like a queen,"_ a younger Druella once told her. _"A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another steppingstone to success."_

Where had that fire gone?

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Years passed by and Narcissa had done everything her mother had said. Despite her growing rage, she had conformed to society.

She cooked, she cleaned, she gave sex whenever her husband needed it…

Her days became long and listless. All sense of adventure fled, leaving her in its wake, broken and shattered. The pearls around her neck were meaningless, the dresses she wore only for show.

She was breaking, and no one was the wiser.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"How do you do it?" Narcissa asks softly, taking a sip from her tea. Druella looks at her, a small frown etched onto her face.

"I can't answer that any better than you can," she admits softly. "It kills me, you know. Even after all these years."

"Then, why do you continue to put up with it? Why _should_ we put up with it?"

"We put up with it because it's all we've known," Druella says after a moment. "We shouldn't have to, but we do. Honestly, I think we put up with it because we're afraid that we'll be alone."

"Why should we be afraid? We should all be considered the same, no matter what our bodies look like-"

"In an ideal world, maybe," Druella interrupts. "Narcissa, this world is not perfect. For generations, people have fought to have dominance over everyone else. If the situations were reverse, could you honestly say that you wouldn't do the same?"

Narcissa opens her mouth, as if to protest, but she stops dead in her tracks. If she had the ability to have power, she probably _would_ have done the same.

"Look, I know you're unhappy with Lucius. You don't like being in a loveless marriage, I get that, but you must think about the consequences should you rebel. First, very little people would stand with you."

"Why wouldn't they, mother? Aren't women tired of being oppressed?"

"They are," Druella concedes, "but they're afraid of the repercussions. The men won't just sit idly by as you plot against them, honey."

"Well, I'm not like them," Narcissa finally says. "If they're too scared to fight for what they believe in, then so be it."

"What about the muggle-borns?" Druella finally asks. "Will you fight for them, as well?"

"What are you talking about?" Narcissa questions, confused.

"They're oppressed by us because they are different. How come your cause is justifiable, but theirs isn't?"

Narcissa is silent for a moment, speechless. Something in Druella's eyes soften and she rises, ruffling the blonde locks of her youngest child.

"Look," she sighs. "I understand that you want to make a difference, but our world is too corrupt. It's too late, honey."

"It's never too late," Narcissa grits out, fed up. "You're scared, I get that, but that doesn't mean it's time to stop fighting."

Druella opens her mouth, about to protest, but Narcissa leaves before she gets the chance. In the silence of her chambers, she sighs. Despite herself, her lips twitch upwards in an amused smile.

"She's just like you," a voice echoes from the doorway. Looking at her husband, Druella grins.

"I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing," she confesses softly, bitterly.

Cygnus shakes his head and walks into the room. He sits down next to his wife and pulls her into his arms, pressing a comforting kiss to her forehead.

"All her life, we've told her what she shouldn't do. Perhaps, it's good that she's become her own person," he says.

"I just don't want her to fail like I did," Druella admits. "It crushed me when I realized how horrible this world really is. She's still a child, Cyg. I'd hate for her innocence to be tainted by this cruel place."

"I don't think that's our place anymore," he says quietly. "We've done all we could to protect her. If Narcissa truly wants to go down this path, we can only support her."

If Druella has something to say about that, she doesn't voice it. Rather, she buries her head within his chest, tears pouring from tightly closed eyes. Throughout it, Cygnus holds her close, whispering sweet nothings in her ears.

And, if he's crying, who cares?

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Assignment 8: History of Magic - Write about someone leading a rebellion. Write about someone who's being discriminated against because they're different.**

 **Mother's Day Event - Female Character Appreciation - Narcissa Black, Powerful, "Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another steppingstone for greatness."**

 **Word Count: 1,021**


	208. Drabble 208: SalazarRowena

**Title: A Tale as Old as Time**

 **Pairing: Salazar/Rowena**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warning: Alternate Reality, OOC Salazar (Sorry, had to do it for the premise to work).**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

The darkened sky is illuminated by a radiant moon, a multitude of stars littering the shiny abyss. From his perch on a hill, Salazar watches, entranced, as a beam of light centers around a woman in navy blue robes.

The woman, who doesn't appear to notice his presence, stands near the very center of the field. Within her pale hand, her wand sits delicately, its tip ignited by a beautiful purple spark. Plump, cherry lips part to reveal pearly white teeth as she smiles brilliantly, seemingly enthralled by something.

That's when Salazar notices it.

With a small movement of her wand, the woman begins to trace words and figures into the night air, becoming increasingly excited as she does it over and over.

Salazar doesn't know how long he sits there, admiring the beauty. He simply knows that when he goes home, brilliant blue eyes follow him, a sense of excitement gleaming from within.

For what feels like the first time, he feels alive.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Salazar's at the field again. However, instead of the beautiful night sky, he's met with an ensnaring dawn. Light peaks from the edges of clouds, foretelling the end of the day. The sun, which had previously been glaringly bright, had become a somber fiery orange, one that inflicts an odd sense of loss within his heart.

The woman from before does not join him, at first. Rather, he's alone, his mind replaying the events from the other day.

Logically, he knows that he can do nothing but mourn the loss of what would never be. The beautiful woman is a stranger, one he can't possibly meet. For, if they do, she'd have to endure this horrible curse.

Shivering at the very thought of condemning the magnificent woman, Salazar does not notice when said women enters the clearing, the sun having long gone down. He doesn't even notice when she spots him, her eyes lighting up in a weary sort of curiosity.

He only reacts when she's suddenly in his face, her ensnaring cobalt eyes looking into his green ones. Panic fills him. He can't talk to her lest he inflict her with this curse. He's about to turn around and leave when a small hand wraps around his own, effectively stopping him.

"Who are you?" she asks, voice soft. Salazar peers at her, feeling a light blush develop on his cheeks.

"Salazar Slytherin, at your service," he returns after a moment. The woman looks at him, as if considering his honesty, and then smiles.

"Well, Salazar, care to play with me?" she looks at him and gestures towards the clearing. When Salazar looks at her hesitantly, she reaches for his hand and pulls him up, smiling at the snarl he sends her way.

"Shall we?"

Knowing he has no other choice, Salazar nods. If he's telling himself vehemently that he did not agree out of desire to see her, whose business is that?

"You can call me Rowena, by the way," she says, grinning. Reaching for her wand, she whispers the spell she used yesterday, smiling when the tip of her wand gains a purple hue.

"How'd you know I was a wizard?" Salazar asks, stunned by the amount of trust she's shown him. Rowena just smiles at him secretively, her features soft in the dim purple light.

"I know everything," she tells him conspiratorially.

"Right," Salazar says, rolling his eyes. Rowena stares at him with a grin, but doesn't argue against his skepticism. Rather, she gently urges him to repeat the incantation and create a small snake in the air.

"It suits you," she says mysteriously when he asks her why she chose a snake. Salazar shrugs, not thinking it important, and they spend the rest of the day like that. For Salazar, it's surreal and honestly the best day of his life.

Merlin, he hadn't felt that way since he obtained the blasted curse.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Rationally, Salazar knows he needs to stop seeing Rowena. However, something about the blue-eyed witch causes his heart to beat rapidly in his chest, causes his cheeks to flush with something akin to pleasured embarrassment, causes him to feel like small butterflies are going rampant in his stomach.

Rationally, Salazar knows he needs to stop this. Unfortunately, rationality is not on his side.

It's been months since that day, and they have met up each day, creating more and more figures within the sky. This time, however, they begin to talk more, each tale more personal than the last.

Salazar never tells Rowena about the curse, but he gets the odd feeling that she knows about it. Whenever he'd tip toe around telling her the truth, she'd give him that infuriating knowing smirk, and shake her head. On one hand, Salazar _wants_ to tell her. He wants to prove her wrong, wants to show her that she has no idea who and what he is. The other part, the majority, doesn't want to tell her anything. He wants to protect her, wants to cradle her to his chest and never let her know of his harsh reality.

Despite his wants and desires, it seems fate has other plans for him.

He's sitting with her, both conversing softly about the multitude of books Rowena had managed to get in the next town over, when she sees his locket. Without thinking, Rowena reaches out for it. When he notices, Salazar attempts to scream, attempts to _warn_ her, but it is too late.

Her hand connects with the cool metal and the damage is done.

With a bated breath, Salazar watches as a cloud of smoke envelops her. Power surges from her body, a radiant glow that threatens to blind him, and when the smoke finally leaves, Rowena is spread out on the ground, her eyes closed.

"Why'd you have to touch it?" Salazar asks, near tears. Of course, when he finally finds happiness, it must be taken away from him. There's no doubt in his mind that Rowena will hate him for this. After all, he _had_ just taken her only chance of freedom of way.

Mentally, he steels himself for when she wakes up, steels himself for the screaming and crying that will no doubt occur.

That's why he's unprepared for a hand to tenderly cup his cheek, a smooth voice whispering sweet nothings.

Opening the eyes he didn't know he closed, green orbs connect with warm blue ones.

"You're not mad at me?" he asks, surprised. Rowena shakes her head, smiling.

"Didn't I tell you that I know everything?" she questions. Salazar looks at her, confused. "Did you seriously think I didn't know you were cursed?"

"Of course I did," Salazar tells her, frowning. "It's not like I wear it on my forehead in bold letters."

"Salazar," Rowena says seriously, rolling her eyes. "Knowledge is my forte. Had I _not_ known you were cursed, I would have been a fraud!"

"If you knew I was cursed, why did you keep talking to me?" he asks, at a lost. "You can't leave anymore, Rowena. You told me you were here on a trip. Because of me, your trip will _never_ end."

"I kept talking to you because I liked you," Rowena says. "I didn't need any other reason either."

When Salazar opens his mouth to protest, she sighs.

"Look," she tells him. "What's done is done. You were miserable, Sal. This curse has eaten you up inside. At least, I know you won't be scared I'm going to leave, now."

"That's beside the point," Salazar says. He opens his mouth to keep going, but he can't. He can feel his eyes burn with unshed tears, the loneliness he's battled for so long finally beginning to be acknowledged.

"It's not," Rowena argues. "For most of your life, you have been mistreated. You told me that you loved your father, told me that you were willing to do anything for him because he's your _father_. You also told me that he betrayed your love, that he gave you up to the very first person he saw. You've been weary of love ever since. I'm telling you that you don't have to be weary anymore. I _love_ you, Salazar. I know you don't see yourself as anything special, but _I_ do. Sure, I could leave, but what problem would that solve? I'd still love you and regret that decision every second of my life."

"What if you come to regret this decision?" Salazar finally asks. "What if you discover this is the worst mistake you've ever made?"

"I'm an intelligent woman, Sal. I know what I'm giving up, and I've decided that _you_ are worth it. I love you, Salazar."

When Salazar looks like he's about to breakdown in a mixture of embarrassment, happiness, and sadness, Rowena rushes forward to hug him. They stay there for a while, Salazar whispering a thousand "I love you's," under his breath.

Later, when he manages to calm down enough to think, he pulls himself together and blushes at his weakness.

"If you truly want to do this," he says, attempting to be aloof, "then come with me to the mansion."

"Do you have a library?" Rowena asks, nodding. Salazar smiles at her and nods.

"The best one you'll ever see," he declares. When Rowena releases a giddy giggle, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this will work out in the end.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **Assignment 9 - Astronomy: Chinese Astrology - Write about someone finding an alternative way to solve a problem. My explanation: Rowena, who loves Salazar, decides to allow herself to be cursed rather than leave.**

 **March Event - Female Appreciation - Rowena Ravenclaw, Locket, Beauty and the Beast by Celine Dion. My explanation: This story was based/inspired on/by the lyrics.**

 **Word Count: 1,572**


	209. Drabble 209: TomHarry

**Title: Thy Enemy - Enthralling**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome (because of this, the characters may seem OOC).**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

It's been four years since then.

Sighing, Ron brings the tumbler of beer to his lips. He downs it in one go, relishing in the burn that seems to light him on fire from the inside out. Across from him, his wife, Hermione, stares at him, a small frown on her face.

"We shouldn't be here," she states softly. "We need to do something, _anything,_ that doesn't involve us losing our inhibitions."

"What do you suppose we do, Hermione?" Ron slurs, rolling his eyes. "We've searched everywhere. Whoever took Harry was smart."

"We can be smarter," she hastens to say, eyes flashing in determination. "Look, I understand that you want to give up, that it may be easier for you not to face it, but Harry needs us. He could be somewhere, screaming for us, and-"

"SHUT UP!"

The tumbler that had been in Ron's hand sails across the room, missing her by mere inches. Hermione gulps and looks at Ron, fear replacing her disappointment. Said man looks at her, his eyes wide in shock and internal despair.

"You don't know," he begins, shaking. "You didn't get his call, didn't have to experience what it feels like to have your best friend pleading for you to get there, repeating, _'hurry, please, Ron, hurry'_ , continuously. You didn't have to experience the rapid beating of your heart as you go against all odds to get there, to _help_ , only to hear your best friend scream. You didn't have to scream into the receiver, begging your friend to _please, please respond_ , only to be met with crushing silence. So, don't act like _you_ have any right to tell me what I _should_ be doing."

When he finishes, there is only a stunned silence. Hermione stares at him, her mouth agape, and Ron suddenly can't take it. Heading to the door, he ignores Hermione's stunned calls, instead opting to leave.

He can't do this, not any more.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Tom!" Harry greets, rising to hug his partner. Said man grins, his crimson eyes flashing in content.

"Hello, little one," he says softly. His long arms wrap around Harry, their warmth comforting. "How was your day?"

"It was good," Harry tells him with a smile. "I missed you, though. Why can't you stay home more?"

"I have things to do, Harry," he chides. "Didn't I tell you this before?"

Harry looks down, ashamed.

"Yes," he agrees, grimacing. "It's just really lonely when you're not around."

"I know, sweetheart. Why don't you ever play with the toys I've left for you?"

Tom gestures towards the play chest on the other side of the room, a frown on his face.

"It's not the same," Harry admits softly. "I want to feel the warmth of another, want to feel loved. Toys can't do that, you know?"

"I know, honey, but this will be over soon. Can you be a good boy and hold out for me?" Tom asks tenderly.

"I can," Harry agrees. "It's just, can I visit my old friends, sometime? They must be worried sick. They don't know you like I do-"

"No," Tom says coldly. His whole demeanor changes abruptly. The warmth he previously had dissipates, replaced by a frigid iciness. "I've told you this before, Harry, and I won't say it again: People will not accept our love. They will attempt to tear us apart, and I _can't_ have that."

"I'm sorry," Harry says quickly, shaking his head. "I know it was a stupid question. I won't ask again. Can you please not be angry with me?"

Something in Tom's features soften.

"I can never be mad at you," he whispers tenderly. His hand reaches down to cup Harry's cheek, a soothing reminder of his place in Harry's life. "Now, why don't you go freshen up?"

Harry, oblivious to the other's intentions, moves to leave the room, missing Tom's smirk entirely.

The young boy would never know what hit him.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **March Event - Jewel Day Collection - Amethyst - Write about Harry Potter.**

 **Word Count: 659**


	210. Drabble 210: RomildaHarry

**Title: The Boy Who Lived**

 **Pairing: Romilda x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Mommy," a young Romilda calls softly, smiling. "Can you read me a story?"

"Of course, honey," Emma says, grinning. Pulling out her wand, she summons a thin book, chuckling at the excited gasp her daughter releases. "Which one would you like to hear?"

"The Boy Who Lived," Romilda says boldly. Emma rolls her eyes in fondness.

"You really like him, don't you?" she questions softly. Romilda nods her head vigorously, her eyes alight with wonder.

"There's no one else like him," she breathes. "One day, I'll marry him! You'll see!"

Emma laughs and raises her arms placatingly.

"Of course, honey," she says, grinning. "You'll make such wonderful grandkids!"

"M—om," Romilda whines, blushing. "We're too young for kids!"

"Good girl," Emma praises, smirking. "Besides, I'm too young to have grandchildren."

Romilda pretends to gag, causing Emma to grin in mirth.

"Come on, Milly," she says, the nickname rolling effortlessly of her tongue. She climbs into her daughter's bed and encourages her to lean on her, getting comfortable.

"Once upon a time," she begins slowly, her words washing over them both, "there was a young boy named Harry Potter…"

Within minutes, Romilda is asleep, oblivious to the tender smile her mother levels her with.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Why are you so infatuated with him?" Ginny asks, boldly stepping into her space. Romilda pauses, her eyes widening. Her friends look at each other in shock, having not expected the question.

"Harry?" Romilda asks, batting her eyelashes. The red-head nods, her eyes blazing with unrestrained heat. "Does it matter?"

"It does," Ginny says, "because you're interfering with our relationship."

"Um, excuse me if I'm wrong, but according to Harry, himself, you're not dating…" she trails off, unsure if she should even be deigning Ginny with her presence. In response, the girl in question snarls.

"Not yet," Ginny corrects, "but we will."

Unsure of how to even respond, Romilda simply nods slowly.

"Okay," she eventually says. "Good luck with that."

She leaves, unwilling to spend anymore of her time near the delusional red-head, but is stopped a few corridors away by her friend, Jane.

"You're not intimidated?" she questions, unsure. "Ginny's closer to Harry than you are…"

"She can be as close as she likes," Romilda tells her, hoping her smile will put her friend at ease. "She only accosted us today because she knows I'm a viable threat."

"Still," Romilda's other friend, Casey, begins. "What if she tries something?"

"She can do whatever she like," Romilda says, eyes blazing with unrestrained heat. "As Harry's future spouse, I can't ruin his reputation by engaging in some petty squabble. However, I will not forget what she does. She will get her pay back, one day. I'll make sure of it."

"You really like, Harry, huh?" Jane asks fondly. Romilda nods, smiling.

"I love him," she tells her tenderly. "Ever since I heard about that blessed night all those years ago, I knew we were meant to be."

"We'll help, you know?" Casey tells her. "Whatever you need, we will provide."

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't need anything," Romilda tells her confidently. "What Harry needs is a woman, and I can be one."

Without skipping another beat, Romilda approaches the doors of the Great Hall, turning to smirk at her friends.

"Now, are we going to keep talking, or shall we eat like Queens?"

Twin smiles are her answer.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Character Exploration Challenge - Section 1: Romilda Vane (Wonder)**

 **March Word Count: 569**


	211. Drabble 211: TomHarryVoldemort

**Title:** _ **Comedor de la Muerte**_

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Mental Asylum AU, Non-magic AU.**

 **Word Count: 2437**

 **AN: Written for Quidditch League's Final. My name is Firediva0, and I am the Keeper of the Wasps. My prompt was, "Such a beautiful place to be with friends." Big thanks to my three betas of the season, Little Miss Xanda, 3cheersforidiots, and Kefallion. Without you, I couldn't have done it. Love you to pieces!**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Pale, long fingers lift an envelope from the desk, and eyes darkened with malice peer upward.

"Saint Mungo's Mental Hospital?" a deep voice questions the empty room, a hint of amusement tinging the words. "What are you planning, dear brother?" Tom looks toward the window, a small smirk evident on his lips. "I suppose, I will attend," he says to himself. "After all, who but I could reign in my idiotic brother?"

With a mirthful chuckle, he deposits the opened envelope onto the table, intrigued by the development.

For the rest of the day, his smile remains on his lips.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

When he arrives at the institute, Tom is pleasantly surprised. Instead of the gloomy atmosphere he expected, the outside of the asylum is neat and tidy. The building, an impressing white, practically shines due to the beams of sunlight that hit it. It seems nice, cozy, almost.

The inside of the building gives off the same vibe, and Tom can't help but admire the sleek smoothness provided by the black and white walls. His brother, it seems, has no patience for the traditional all-white rooms that seem to plague almost every mental hospital.

A good thing, he supposes.

Heading to what looks like a receptionist desk, he smiles at the young brunette there.

"Hello," he says, his voice like silk. "I'm here for my brother?"

"Can I get a name?" the girl asks, grinning.

"Voldemort," he says, waiting. Like expected, the receptionist pauses, her eyes widening.

"Y-you're related to Lord Voldemort?" she asks, shocked.

Tom nods, his grin widening. "Yes," he says. "Now, if you can tell me where I can find him?"

"Um, yes, of course," she answers, clearly frazzled. She turns to the phone besides her and dials a number, turning around to whisper conspiratorially to whomever picked up. Amused by such adorable behavior, Tom merely waits in silence, an eyebrow cocked up in unspoken intrigue.

"Lord Voldemort will see you," she finally says, turning to face him. She smiles widely, but he can tell that the expression is missing some of the warmth from before. Shrugging it off, he waits for her to tell him where to go and then turns around, intent on seeing his brother. However, a small hand wraps around his wrist, effectively stopping him.

"Be careful," the receptionist says before he can protest her action. Her lips are set in a grim line. "No matter what you do, don't let him get you." With that, she lets go of his arm, her wide smile returning. "Have a nice day," she tells him, waving. Without skipping a beat, she turns and heads back to work, ignoring the inquiring look Tom sends her way.

Mind fresh with what happened, Tom goes to meet with his brother. A trickle of doubt makes itself known in his chest, and he's faced with the sudden, violent urge to _leave_. However, like the stubborn individual he is, he keeps walking through the asylum, ignoring the people he passes on his way.

His brother is up to something, and he needs to know what.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Tom," his brother greets with a smile, reaching out to hug him. Unused to such behavior from the normally stoic man, Tom awkwardly stands there, wishing for it to end. Luckily for him, Voldemort quickly lets go. "How nice it is to see you."

"I suppose," Tom says, smirking a little. "Now, will you finally tell me what you've been working on this past year?"

"In due time," Voldemort tells him, shrugging it off. "For now, I want you to catch me up on the happenings of your life. After all, it's not every day I see you."

Although frustrated at the hold up, Tom gives in and tells his brother about the mundane life he's led, already aware that Voldemort won't tell him anything until he is ready. If anything, that is the one thing he hates about his brother.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

The next day came and, true to to what he had written in his letter, his brother gave him a job.

"You'll be working in the Eating Disorder ward," Voldemort says, leading him through the hallways. They reach a door with a keypad and a large sign hanging overhead. _Eating Disorders,_ it says.

"Is this okay?" Tom asks after a moment. "I don't actually have experience doing this."

"You're good at analyzing people, are you not?" Voldemort asks, shrugging. "Really, that's all I need you to do. Out of everyone I've met, you're the most qualified. Besides, I'm your brother; I know I can trust you."

It's something about the way he says it that sets Tom on edge, that makes warning bells go off in his head. He files the information away for later and focuses on the present.

"I hope you won't regret it," he says instead.

Voldemort claps him on the back, smirking. "I won't," he says cockily. "You won't let me down." Without preamble, he punches in the numbers to the keypad, and the door swings open. "It's 5724," he says, with a grin. "I'm sure you'll remember that, yes?"

Tom nods.

"Great," Voldemort says. He walks through the door and strolls down the halls, not looking behind him to check if Tom is still following him. He knows he is. "Now, since you're a beginner, I need to make sure you know what to do. I'm going to have you take on one patient only, okay?"

Again, Tom nods.

"His name is Harry Potter," Voldemort says. They come upon another desk, and Voldemort doesn't hesitate to fish out the file. He hands it to Tom with a smile, a slight gleam in his eye. "He's anorexic."

Tom opens the manila folder and reads it silently, feeling his eyebrow rise with every word he reads. It seems he'll be stuck with boring cases until he is ready.

"Alright," he says after a while. "When can I meet him?"

"Now," Voldemort assures him. At once, he begins to stroll down the hall, this time leading Tom down several hallways. He only stops in what seems like an abandoned hallway, a chained door the only one in the vicinity. Again, warning bells go off in Tom's head, but before he can ask, Voldemort is already speaking again.

"Put these chains back up every time you exit," he orders, voice grim. "While these probably aren't necessary, it's better safe than sorry."

"Why?" Tom finally questions, curiosity bubbling over. "Also, why is he in an abandoned hallway? Shouldn't he be with the others?"

His mind flashes back to the numerous patients that passed on the way here, to the malnourished brunette with the frizzy hair, to the obese red-head who kept going on and on about food, to the anorexic blonde that whispered under her breath. Naturally, they weren't the most normal people; however, they were better than nothing.

"No," Voldemort answers, the glint back in his eye. "Potter is… different." He trails off, no doubt slipping into a memory, but then he's suddenly back, removing the chains quickly and efficiently. "I want you to do a preliminary exam," Voldemort explains. "See the child and tell me what you think." Without preamble, he removes the last of the chains and pushes Tom inside of the room, following closely behind him.

At once, time seems to stop.

Within the white room, there is a black table. A child, no older than the age of fifteen resides on top of it, with what appears to be the standard hospital gown covering his pale skin. Dark, raven hair is in a disarray, but it manages to look endearing on the child. From the looks of it, he appears to be asleep.

"Harry," Tom calls, the unfamiliar name falling off his lips with ease. "Harry, wake up."

Rule number one, lure the person you're talking to into a false sense of security.

"Harry," he tries again, approaching the table. Gently, he shakes the small child, frowning when he just won't wake up.

"What's wrong with him?" he asks, looking towards his brother. Voldemort smiles.

"He's not going to wake up," his brother says. "Try gathering information from him like this."

Tom looks at him weirdly but acquiesces. Moving closer to the child, he studies the innocent face, noticing just how angular the boy really was. Next, he looks down, searching for a cause. In the beginning, everything seems to be normal. However, a nagging suspicion causes him to lift the gown covering the child's leg slightly, uncovering the permanent indentations left by an unknown assailant. A frown tugs at his lips, but he doesn't say anything to his brother. He continues his examination, his lips tightening with every blemish he finds.

"He was abused," he finally says to his brother. "He probably hasn't had a decent meal his whole life."

"Good," Voldemort praises, smirking. "You need not worry, though. His scars will fade with time."

"They won't," Tom tells him with a shake of his head. "They're too deep, too old. He will never lose those scars."

"He will," Voldemort says. When Tom looks at him in doubt, he shakes his head in amusement. "Do you remember Nagini?" he asks instead. At his brother's nod, he continues. "Her venom, while poisonous to most people, can be mixed with a biologically engineered serum known as Walpurgis. When mixed, they create a powerful elixir called Comedor de la Muerte. This elixir can cause the host to become a more enhanced version of themselves."

"Wait, you've been experimenting on people?" Tom asks, befuddled. Surely his brother, no matter how insane he might be, would _not_ do such a thing under the guise of a mental institution.

"They were all going to die, anyway," Voldemort confides, shaking his head. "Some would be a danger to others, to themselves. Others, would kill themselves simply by not eating or, in Weasley's case, eating too much. I've given them a purpose."

"Yes, because being your guinea pig is _so_ much fun," Tom says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "These people have families, Voldemort. They have friends they love. How could you take them away, intending to hurt them, even though they sought help?"

"They have friends here," his brother defends with a shake of his head. "You're overreacting, Tom."

"Such a beautiful place to be with friends," he says, gagging. Voldemort shakes his head at his brother's dramatics.

"I told you Potter was different than the other patients," his brother says. "Unlike them, he _absorbs_ the serum into his blood, allowing the transition to occur. As we speak, the child is-"

He's cut off by a blood-curdling scream. At once, they both look towards the boy, startled to find him arching off the table, his green eyes seeming to _glow_.

"-going through the transition," he finishes with a satisfied smile.

"Will he live?" Tom asks, fearing for the child. Voldemort nods sharply.

"I'll admit, I was hesitant to use him, at first," he remarks softly. "Harry's always been fragile. His state of mind has always been the worst out of all the patients. Couple that with his small physique, I was sure he would die during the first stage. However, I was forced to use him when all my other patients died. No one could survive the experiments, only him."

He looks at the child, fondness in his gaze.

"I knew from the moment he was admitted that he would do something breathtaking, but I hadn't thought it would be _this._ I thought he'd be useful for another experiment; perhaps, the one on cellular restoration. However, he is special. The blood in his veins is _special_. The child will come to no harm by me."

"You call this no harm?" Tom says after a moment, his eyes light with fiery indignation. "He has escaped one tormenter just to run into the hands of another. What do you need this information for, Voldemort? What will you do should you create this serum?"

"I will become immortal," comes the swift reply. Voldemort smirks, the expression full of hunger. "Only we shall have this beautiful gift."

He looks at Harry and then he looks at Tom.

"All three of us."

"I won't do it," Tom says. "Don't you see that what you're doing is _wrong_?"

" _Death_ is wrong. It took our parents from us, took our _happiness_ away. Is it wrong that I seek to ensure our happiness?" He looks at Tom, willing him to understand. "Besides, can't Harry be our family? I've seen the way you've looked at the child, seen how you've grown protective of him due to the harm done onto him from his assailants. I'm fond of him, as well. He's made all this possible. Join us, Tom."

Tom looks at him for several seconds, conflicted. One part of him wants to say yes. After all, his brother _is_ right. Death is something that makes the world less bright; it is something that even _he_ fears. He should take control over his life, should carve out his own path. Problem is, can he do that? What would the ramifications be? Would it not be lonely to witness people perish and not perish with them? Would Harry and Voldemort remain a constant in his immortal life?

The offer is tempting, almost unbearably so, but Tom knows what he must do, knows that he must say _no_. He opens his mouth, willing the words to come out, but they _won't_.

He's trapped in an endless loop of desire and fear.

"Don't think about it," Voldemort urges him. "Rather, allow me to guide you, little brother. Allow me to pull you into the right direction."

He takes Tom's hand and pulls him close, both crowding over Harry. Gently, almost tenderly, he brings their shared hands to the table, resting them on the child's chest.

A feeling of _home_ surges through them. Tom closes his eyes.

" _No matter what you do, don't let him get you."_

The receptionist's words come to his mind, and Tom opens his eyes with a start.

"I can't do this," he chokes out. He starts to move, intent on leaving, but his brother is one step ahead of him. Quickly, Voldemort pulls out a tranquilizer dart and pushes it straight into the tender skin of Tom's neck.

The last thing Tom sees before darkness consumes him is determined red eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Above. Written for QL.**


	212. Drabble 212: TomHarry (Obsessive Love 1)

**Title: Obsessive Love (Part 1)**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Muggle AU, Tom/Voldemort was born in Harry's era, and this may have another chapter.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

A child runs, his lungs burning with every passing moment. Behind him, people are screaming, demanding that he turn around, but he can't. For, if he turns around, he will die. There is no doubt in his mind, is no inkling of hesitation. He knows what will happen, knows of the horror that awaits him. So, he runs.

Faster, faster, faster; Surely, his assailant is tired by now? He turns, sagging in relief when he sees that no one is following. Slowly, he comes to a stop, inhaling the air around him like a dying man.

He has made it to the promised land. He is free from his tormentors, is free from the beating that would no doubt take place, is free from the harsh words that would be breathed into the air, each one more biting than the last.

His freedom didn't last long.

A body, heavy in nature, crashes into his own, forcing him onto the ground. His breathing stops, the breath knocked out of him, and he struggles fiercely with the body on top of him, all too aware of what is happening.

He has been caught, his freedom compromised!

Two more voices are heard in the distance, and the he knows all too well what is about to take place. His cousin, Dudley, has found him.

"Stop," he begs softly, hoping, praying that the boy on top of him will listen, will let him go.

He doesn't.

"I'm sorry," the boy says, his voice a mere whisper. "It's you or me."

Harry whimpers at that. He can't possibly ask the boy to let him go, now. Dudley is a force to be reckoned with, and he doesn't think the other would survive him. However, that doesn't stop him from looking at the boy pleadingly, silently willing him to understand that he was terrified, that he wouldn't be able to take the beating.

The boy looks away, and Harry's fate is sealed.

He is going to die today.

Finally, his cousin approaches them, his big, beefy hand raised in the air in triumph.

"I've found you, freak," he snarls, a menacing grin on his face. "Did you really think you could escape me?"

"Yes," Harry says, voice trembling. Inwardly, he curses himself. He's supposed to be strong, supposed to be fearless. Dudley can't know he's afraid, can't know that he's shaking in his shoes, hackles raised on his skin. "Yes," he repeats more firmly.

"Well, you can't," Dudley returns, smirking. "You are nothing. You can accomplish nothing, and you are good for nothing besides being beat."

"That's a lie," Harry tells him. His voice trembles; Dudley's smirk widens.

"Look at you," he scoffs, "pretending to be brave. You're a coward, a freak. We both know that you are nothing, both know that you can't do anything by yourself. Now, just give in."

He pulls his fist back, aiming it at Harry's stomach. It connects with a loud thump, Harry's breath leaving in a surprised gasp. His eyes well up with tears, but he can't cry; he can't.

"Acknowledge that you are nothing," Dudley says more strongly, aiming another punch to Harry's heaving body.

His friends, Peirce and Dickens, rush to hold Harry down, baring the child for the rest of the punches that reign down.

"Acknowledge that you were born to serve others, to serve me-"

A resounding crack interrupts Dudley. The boy releases a wail of pain and clutches his bleeding nose with his hand, glaring at the offender. Harry startles and looks up, only to have his eyes widen at what he finds.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the most popular child in their year, stands before them. He shakes his hand, sneering in distaste at the blood that stains it.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dudley snarls, hackles raised. He takes a threatening step forward and pulls his fist back, as if he is going to hit Tom, but he's stopped by a pale hand wrapping around his wrist.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Tom tells him softly. "You never know what could happen…"

His grip around Dudley's wrist tightens in warning, causing the latter to growl. Pulling his hand away roughly, Dudley goes in for the punch.

Big mistake.

Tom doesn't take kindly to it. Immediately, he pounces, his teeth bared threateningly. Dudley puts up his best fight, but Tom is more experienced than him. Within seconds, he is on the ground, Tom smirking down at him.

"I warned you," he says, instead. "Now, look at what you've made me do."

He chuckles softly, amused by his own joke, and turns to Harry, uncaring that he essentially bared his back.

"Be careful next time," he offers. With a gentle pat on the back, he leaves.

While Dudley and his gang sneer at him, Harry watches the boy's back with something akin to desire.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is an interesting child...

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **March Jewels Competition - Rutile Quartz - Necklace - Write a muggle AU!**

 **Fanfiction Writing Month - 822 words.**


	213. Drabble 213: TomHarry

**Title: My Husband, Maternal**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _"The best portion of your life will be the small, nameless moments you spend smiling with the person who cares about you."_

 _\- Unknown_

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Harry's panting, his face flushed a brilliant red.

"I don't know if I can do this," he tells Tom, snarling silently when the nurse tells him to push. He acquiesces, a loud groan of pain escaping.

"You can," Tom says in response, gritting his teeth as Harry nearly squeezes his hand to death. "You will bare our child, and you will love the end result."

"B-but it hurts," Harry whines, feeling the baby slip out even more. "I can't- I can't continue on."

"You can do this, love," Tom promises, leaning in to kiss Harry's sweaty forehead. "Now, _push."_

With one last scream, Harry does so, feeling the pain reach an all time crescendo just as the baby pops out into the world, the nurse catching it with gentle hands. He slumps forward in defeat, feeling like he just ran a marathon.

"I love you," he tells Tom, "but I will _never_ have another baby."

"Whatever you say," Tom says, smirking. He seems unbothered by Harry's claim, as if he doesn't believe it, and if Harry weren't so tired, he might have said something about it.

"You'll see," Harry says instead. "One day, you'll see."

"Okay, darling," Tom says placatingly, his hands up. He smiles, though. "Whatever you say."

Harry growls and opens his mouth, but the nurse interrupts him.

"Would you like to see the baby?" she asks tenderly, bringing the small child into Harry's view. Exhaustion ignored, Harry reaches forward eagerly, his eyes wide with awe as he gazes upon the baby, _his_ baby.

"She's beautiful," he breathes. He looks towards Tom, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "She looks just like you."

"No," Tom gently corrects. "She looks like _us_."

He watches as Harry brings the child closer, studying its features, with warm, gentle eyes. Never in his life had he imagined this, had he imagined having a beautiful husband and a beautiful child. He had always thought that he would be alone, that he would have no real future, but that wasn't the case.

"I love you," he says, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. He coughs, though, trying to hide the sob he wants to release. "I love you both _so much_."

Harry grins at him serenely, his eyes knowing. "We love you too," he says. "Forever and always."

There, in that hospital room, Tom achieves a happiness he didn't know existed.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **OTP Prompts Weekly Elimination Battle Competition - Week 1 - Write about your OTP taking care of a baby.**


	214. Drabble 214: VoldemortHarry (Platonic)

**Title: Darkened by Your Taint**

 **Pairing: Voldemort x Harry (I guess...?)**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **AN: Written for Assignment 10, Home Economics. Task 2: Write about an injury that leaves a permanent scar.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

 _"Revenge is a dish best served cold."_

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Harry," Ron calls, hands trembling. "Please, don't do this."

"I have to," Harry says softly, a tender grin curling along the edges of his lips. He moves closer to the redhead, only stopping when he's mere inches away. He leans in, close enough to feel Ron shudder with fear. "After all, you went through so much trouble to bring me here."

"This isn't like you, Harry," he says desperately, staring at him imploringly. "Voldemort has tainted you, has made you into his puppet. If you trust me, we can do something about this. You just need to let me down."

He gestures towards the rope that holds him suspended to the ceiling, unable to move.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Harry finally questions, sighing in disappointment. "Voldemort has done nothing to me. In fact, I probably wouldn't be like this had it not been for you."

"You're my brother," Ron declares passionately. "I fought for you; did everything in my power to convince Dumbledore that you were innocent, that you hadn't gone over to the dark, but that is what you did, isn't it?"

"I followed the path you set out for me," Harry says calmly. "What you did was unforgivable."

"She was a liability, Harry," Ron says, rolling his eyes. "Hermione would have ruined everything had she found out. I had to take care of her."

"So, using dark magic, the very thing you claim to despise, is okay?" he questions, disbelieving. "Wow, I knew you were an idiot, but I didn't think you were this bad."

"You don't know anything," Ron sputters out, cheeks turning a dark red. "The plan is safe; that's all that matters."

"No, Ron," Harry says, shaking his head. "Using _Imperio_ on Hermione has had the opposite effect. I _will_ get revenge for her. I will spend the rest of my life ensuring that yours is a living hell."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asks after a moment, the full weight of his situation settling upon him. Harry smirks maliciously, a glint of promise within his eyes.

"I'm going to allow you to go back to Hogwarts, of course," he begins. He pauses when Ron raises his eyebrow, a spark of intrigue entering his eye. "Don't worry, dearest. I know you're not going to squeal to the Headmaster. In order to ensure your undying loyalty, I'll be using your questionable method of justice to make sure you don't betray me."

Harry extends his wand, his lips moving in a soundless chant. The tip of the wood turns a bright purple, electricity seeming to shoot out of it and connect with Ron's prone body. At the moment of impact, a loud scream rips itself out of the redhead's throat.

"This is for Hermione," Harry whispers, relishing in the sweet cries the redhead releases. "This spell will mimic the sensation of hundreds of needles peircing you whenever you even think about betraying me. Luckily for me, it'll even leave permanent scars, each of which, will be in hard to reach places, of course."

Ron whimpers in protest, his body convulsing as fiery pain encases his form. Finally, after what seems like eternity, the pain begins to die down.

"Harry," he whines. "Please, don't do this."

"It's too late, Ron," Harry tells him regrettably. "You've made your grave. Now, could you kindly lie in it?"

At Ron's stubborn shake of the head, Harry sighs. It seems he's in for a long night.

* * *

 **Fin.**


	215. Drabble 215: BartyRegulus

**Title: Stay**

 **Pairing: Barty Crouch/Regulus Black**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Alternate Universe, established relationship, abusive relationship.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

When you enter a relationship that's bad for you, what do you do? Are you supposed to walk away, allowing yourself to feel hurt in the process, or stay? If you choose to stay, are you supposed to put up with a longing for a better life, a longing for love? Are you supposed to put up with the pain that plagues you day in and day out, threatening to overwhelm you one day?

From his position on the floor, Regulus looks up, his cheeks stained with tears. He must have been here for days, his only company being the soft, furry bear he was given all those years ago. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say. He simply knows that everything is crashing down on him, is threatening to shatter, leaving him in shambles.

"Love?" a voice calls softly, a swift knock following. "Open up."

Regulus sits there, his tears coming faster.

"Love?" the voice tries again. "Open the door."

Should he refuse? Should he seek a better life than what his partner has provided him?

"Regulus, dear, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

He curls into himself, silently begging that they would go away, that they wouldn't make him choose.

"I love you," the voice finally says.

At once, Regulus can feel his heart melt inside his chest, can feel the organ beg for him to get up and open the door.

"I love you," Regulus says, giving in. He opens the door, allowing his beloved to sweep him into a tight embrace. "I know you didn't mean it. I love you, Barty."

"And I love you."

Regulus closes his eyes, refusing to look over Barty's shoulder, refusing to see the broken glass that litters the floor, blood staining them.

"We'll be okay," he says softly. " _This_ is okay."

Although he tries to reassure himself, a crystalline tear falls down his cheek.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Can You Make it to the End? Challenge - Round 1, Entry 1: Regulus Black**

 **Word Count: 330**


	216. Drabble 216: LilyPetunia (Platonic)

**Title: Leaving Me?**

 **Platonic Pairing: Lily/Petunia**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

A child, no older than the age of eight, looks up from her place on the floor.

"Mommy," a young Lily Evans calls, her green eyes wide with curiosity. "A letter came to the house addressed to me?"

Rose blinks, peering at her daughter in confusion.

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" she asks, her eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "You're only eleven; what could anyone want with you?"

Lily shrugs and hands her the letter. Rose, ever the skeptic, opens it with careful hands, her eyes widening with every word she reads.

"Oliver!" she calls, a bright smile on her face. "Our child has been chosen to go to Hogwarts!"

"Hogwarts?" her husband, Oliver, asks, shocked. He steps into the room, a frown marring his features. "Isn't that place a myth?"

"Apparently not," Rose says, chuckling. "Maybe, my mother wasn't crazy."

"So, she wasn't a lunatic when she yelled at the postman?" Oliver asks, laughing. "She was enraged when the letter never came."

"I guess not," Rose says, smiling. She turns to Lily, pressing a kiss onto her temple. "You're special, honey."

"What do you mean?" Lily asks softly, confused.

"You can do things, things people like me can only dream of. You have the power to become someone great. Don't abuse it, okay?"

Lily nods, noticing how serious her mother is.

"I promise," she begins, putting her hands over her heart. "I will not abuse this power."

Although Rose knows Lily doesn't completely understand what she is promising, she takes the child's word for it, smiling at her encouragingly.

"Good," she breathes. "In this case, we must celebrate!"

She leaves the room, missing the blank stare her youngest daughter, Petunia, levels her. Toys forgotten, Petunia climbs onto her feet and strolls towards Lily, a small frown on her features.

"You're leaving me?" she asks, confused. Lily looks at her, her eyes softening.

"No," she promises. "I'm just going away for awhile."

"I want to come with you," Petunia says resolutely. Lily shakes her head.

"I think I have to go alone," Lily tells her, smiling sadly. "I promise to visit a lot, and-"

"Lily's leaving me?" Petunia questions, ignoring her. Tears well up in the child's eyes, her hands beginning to shake. Saddened, she runs to her room, ignoring Lily's calls of her name.

Later, when Lily leaves, Petunia stews quietly in her room, one thought in her mind: _I hate magic._

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Can You Make it to the End? Challenge - Round 1, Entry 2: Petunia Evans.**

 **Word Count: 406**


	217. Drabble 217: RowenaHelga

**Title: Kiss Me, Just This Once**

 **Pairing: Rowena Ravenclaw x Helga Hufflepuff**

 **Rating: T**

 **Warnings: Vampire AU, Founders AU!**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

When I first met her, she had been unlike anyone I had ever met.

Dark blue ribbons of hair fell to her hips, framing her face beautifully, and her sapphire eyes stood out against translucent skin. Her stride was strong and confident, resembling someone who knew their self-worth. Each step she took was carefully measured, only adding to her grace. I could only think, _beautiful._

In short, Rowena Ravenclaw is mesmerizing. Even now, I can remember the words she uttered to me that day, the words that would forever change my life.

"You shouldn't be out at night," she chided me, frowning. I stared at her, amused.

"Nothing bad happens here," I told her, smiling. "This town is as boring as it gets."

"Just because something's never happened, doesn't mean it won't," she told me. I shook my head, skeptical.

"We're a small, out of the way town. No one would bother to create a problem here," I said, my smile slowly starting to ebb away. In a way, I was happy that our town was boring. After all, everyone was safe. However, life seemed boring here. Is it wrong to want a little excitement in your life?

"Be careful, child," she cautioned. "You may not know exactly what you're wishing for." She paused, her eyes going misty. Memories, I guess. Good or bad, I'll never know.

"Whatever," I told her, disbelieving. "Anyway, as you're obviously new-" I paused and looked at her elegant clothing, which was so different from the overalls we wore here, "-do you need a place to stay?"

"Yes," the woman said, smiling at me. However, her smile was darkened with something I could not place; disappointment, perhaps? "Would you happen to know a place?"

"My family owns an inn," I told her grinning. "It doesn't get much revenue, though, because most people don't want to come to such a boring town."

"You'd be surprised," she said to me. "Sometimes, your life is so exciting you miss the boring things."

I stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate, but she merely shakes her head and gestures for me to lead the way.

"By the way," I began, leading the trek to the inn. "What's your name?"

"Rowena," the dark-haired beauty whispered. "Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Well, Rowena," I said, smiling. "I'm Helga Hufflepuff. Welcome to Forks, a small little town in Washington DC."

In that one, seemingly insignificant moment, my life changed forever.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Since that day, Rowena and I grew closer and closer. Wherever I went, she'd come with, claiming to be my protector because I had been a wonderful host. I acquiesced, if only to see the charming smile that lit up her face whenever she "protected" me from something. Whenever she was around, my life wasn't as boring. I delighted in her presence, delighted in the fact that I finally had someone around my own age to play with, to _talk_ to. It was magnificent.

However, over time, I noticed little quirks that Rowena seemed to have. For instance, she always seemed to be reluctant to go outside in the mornings or the daytime. When she did, she'd search for her ring, a simple band with a sapphire that seemed to glow, and would make sure it was securely in place. Only then, would she allow us to leave the inn.

Furthermore, she'd always leave the inn at midnight, claiming that she needs to run an errand. Whenever she'd come back, she'd hole herself up in her room and refuse to come out into the morning. I could have lived with her hesitance to leave in the morning, but I couldn't help but become curious about her night-time activities.

So, I followed her. When she tip-toed out of the building, I stayed a safe distance behind her. If I'm being honest, I'm surprised she didn't realize I was following her. After all, I'm a klutz, and I probably didn't do a good job of muffling my footsteps. Perhaps, she had something on her mind?

These thoughts soon left me; however, when I saw her stop in a random alley way, approaching a prostitute who was scavenging the streets for a worthy partner.

"Hello, darling," the prostitute purred, taking in Rowena's elegant appearance. To be honest, I wouldn't blame her. If I was a prostitute and this beautiful woman approached me, I wouldn't hesitate to charm her into my bed. I thought Rowena would simply turn away from her advances as she doesn't appear to be the type; however, she surprised me by smiling.

"Good evening," she said, her voice like silk. She took several steps forward, only stopping when she was several feet away from the other. "Would you care to play a game?"

"Depends on what kind of game you're talking about," the prostitute said, smirking. She took her own step forward, seductively tracing a finger down Rowena's chest.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll enjoy this," Rowena breathed, coming even closer to the prostitute. She crashed their lips together, her arms wrapping around the other's midsection, and moaned lowly. The prostitute, it seemed, expected such an action because she didn't hesitate to kiss back.

I knew I should have turned away, should have left Rowena to her activities, but I couldn't help but watch, mesmerized. The moonlight hit them perfectly and cast them in an otherworldly glow, entrancing me. It didn't stop jealousy from rising in me, though. The longer I stared, the longer I wished I was in her arms, wished that I was the one she was kissing.

Alas, it wasn't, and that hurt.

Before I could even think of running away, something crazy happened. Rowena pulled back, her eyes gleaming a dark blue, and thrust her head into the prostitute's neck, ripping the skin there in one go. The prostitute screamed, desperately attempting to push her away, but it was no loose. Rowena's grip was too strong, stronger than hers, and she was helpless. A part of me wanted to run over there and help her, but I couldn't do it. I could merely witness as Rowena slowly drained the life force out of her, her screams ringing in my ears.

When she finally pulled away, a string of blood connected them and the prostitute fell to the floor, dead.

I gasped.

Immediately, glowing blue eyes bore into my own, their depths widening as they recognized that it was me, Helga. For a moment, I thought she would do to me what she did to the other girl, but Rowena didn't. Instead, her eyes lost their glow and two fangs slowly extracted into her gums. That's when it all clicked.

Fangs, blood sucking, death, her words that evening: Vampire.

 _Rowena is a vampire._

Suddenly, I was running for my life, my mind set on the fact that I could _die._ I didn't care that it was Rowena, didn't care that we had been friends for so long. I just knew that I didn't want to die.

So, I ran.

Rowena followed.

"Helga!" she screamed, the sound echoing through the town. I didn't stop. Instead, I weaved through the buildings and alley ways, desperate to get away from her, desperate to _leave,_ but it was too late. Using her vampire speed, she caught up to me and tackled me to the ground, pinning me there. I struggled against her, desperate to get away, but I couldn't. She was just too strong.

"Helga," she repeated. "Stop, it's me, Rowena!"

"You're a monster," I gritted out. "I invited you to my home, around my _family_ , and you lied to me!"

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you," she feebly tried to defend.

"Like that's so much better," I scoffed. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she promised. "I would _never_ hurt you."

"Then, what was that?" I asked, disbelieving. "You _killed_ her."

"I had too!" she yelled. "If I didn't feed, I would have died."

"You don't feed on humans!" I screamed furiously. "That's cannibalism!"

"So, it's only okay when humans destroy animals to feed?" she asked dangerously, her voice low. "When anyone else tries to survive, it's a problem?"

"What, no!" I yelled furiously. She laughed, the sound bitter.

"That's not what you said," she reminded me. "You humans, you're all the same. You have no problem killing others off to survive, but you have a problem when we do the same. What makes us different, huh?"

"There has to be another way," I told her. I finally stop struggling and peer up at her, my eyes filled with tears. "You can't just take away all those innocent lives."

"There's nothing innocent about it," she told me. "I only eat those who have committed sins. That prostitute you saw me killed? The other day, she killed one of her customers and took all their money. Besides, have you thought about the innocent animals you humans slaughter when you eat? I know you get your stuff already cut, but think about the animals that were killed to provide it."

"We don't…" I trailed off. I didn't know what to say, didn't know what I could do to rationalize our behavior. One part of me knew that she was right, that humans were hypocritical creatures, but another part of me wanted to deny it, wanted to claim that we did it in the name of survival. Then again, so did she.

"Exactly," Rowena said, as if reading my mind. "Don't hate me because of what I am. In the end, we're the same."

"I don't hate you," I told her. It's true. Even when I saw her consume the prostitute, I didn't hate her. I just _feared_ her. "I just don't think I can live with what you are."

"Fine," she said after a moment, her blue eyes steeling. "In that case, I'll leave. You won't have to deal with me anymore."

"…Okay," I told her. I felt like a jerk, but my fear wants her gone. I can't deal with the possibility that she may turn on me, that she may kill me or have me as her next meal. I can't, I just can't. No matter how much I like her, she must go.

"I have one condition, though," she told me, her blue eyes cold. I nodded, urging her to go on. "I demand a kiss."

"No," I denied, blushing. "That's- no."

She shook her head.

"I've risked everything," she told me. "Humans don't like my race. In fact, they've had quite a couple of us killed in the past. You knowing is a liability. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life staying away from you, I'm going to need compensation. Besides, don't act like you don't want it."

For a moment, the iciness left her eyes and I saw a glimpse of the old Rowena, the one that I had met all those years ago.

"Deal," I said without thinking. She smiled at me and leaned down, her lips mere inches away from mine. I suddenly became aware that she was still pinning me to the ground, causing a blush to stain my cheeks.

Gently, she kissed me, her lips creating a soft pressure against mine. At once, it was like I was in both heaven and hell. The warmth of her lips created a spark inside of me, one that led to a raging inferno, but it wasn't bad. It was heavenly, and I couldn't help but kiss back with everything I had.

"I love you," she whispered, pulling back. Slowly, she fluttered her eyes open, and an overwhelming sense of longing captured my soul.

"Don't leave me," I told her, unable to stop myself. "I love you."

She smiled at me, the expression radiant, and leaned down to kiss me again.

"So, you don't want me to leave?" she asked, hope in her voice. I nod my head, delighting in the kiss of gratitude she gives me.

"I still fear you," I said softly, "but I'll just have to get over it, won't I?"

She chuckled and went to get up, but I pulled her back down.

"Where are you going?" I questioned. She rolled her eyes.

" _We_ will be getting off the ground and going home," she told me. I laughed and got up, smiling when she took my hand in hers.

Perhaps, she was right. Humans and Vampires aren't that different, after all.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Build a Fic Challenge - Prompts: (Character) Rowena Ravenclaw, (Alternate Universe) Vampire, (Dialogue) "Where are you going?", (Word) Pressure, (Word) Risk.**

 **Word Count: 2096**


	218. Drabble 218: TomHarry

**Title: Render Me Powerless**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Rape, torture, and graphic stuff.**

* * *

Harry gasps, his back arching in delirious pain. In front of him, Rodolphus licks his lips, his hand absentmindedly tracing the leather of his whip.

"While I hate muggles," he begins, smirking, "I must compliment them in their taste of weapons."

Behind him, his brother, Rabastan, chuckles.

"Oh, please," the man scoffs. "You just like them because you get to see his expression without the light of a spell distracting you."

"That's another benefit," Rodolphus concedes, pulling his hand back to deliver another powerful hit. Harry screams, his green eyes welling up with tears. "Though, you have to admit the crack of the whip is beautiful."

Again, he delivers another attack, relishing in the scream the teen releases. Rabastan merely rolls his eyes.

"Are you almost done?" he asks. "Bella wants to trade the mud blood for him."

"Let me guess, she already broke her new toy?" Rodolphus asks in-between another hit. He pants slightly in exhaustion, his arms hurting from the numerous hits he's doled out. For a moment, he admires the welts on Harry's skin, giving one more for good measure.

"The Granger girl is practically half-dead," Rabastan says nodding. Harry looks up, anger written all over his face.

"Leave her alone," he demands, snarling. "She's done nothing to you. I'm the one you want."

"If only it were that simple," Rodolphus mused, cracking the whip once more. "The Granger girl has already been given to Bella as a gift, and Bellatrix _never_ returns her gifts."

"She's a human being," Harry argues fiercely, desperately attempting to ignore the onslaught of pain. "She can't be given away like cattle."

"That's where you're wrong," Rabastan cuts in. "She's a muggle-born, and that's punishable by death in our world. She's lucky she's being allowed to live."

"That's just like the Muggles saying we deserve to die because we practice magic," Harry points out. "It's hypocritical and stupid!"

"You know, we've been lenient," Rodolphus says, his voice dangerously low. "We've allowed you to talk thus far, but now you're going to insult us? Oh, no. I think it's time for you to be punished."

He looks at his brother, a meaningful look being shared between them. Rabastan nods and heads to the door, a smirk on his face.

"You shouldn't have pissed him off," he tells Harry, shaking his head. The second the door closes, Rodolphus puts away the whip and gets a dagger.

"I didn't want to do this," he tells Harry with faux sadness, "but you've pushed me too far."

Harry looks at him, puzzled, but screams when the door bursts open. Rabastan stands there, Hermione clutched within his grasp, and he throws her over to his brother, uncaring of the crack of her frail bones as they connect with the hard cement floor.

"Have fun," he says instead, smirking. At once, Rodolphus acts, his wand suddenly appearing in his hand and illuminating with a bright white light. Suddenly, Hermione is bound to the wall across from Harry, her eyes wide open with fear.

"Harry," she calls out hesitantly, recognizing him. She slumps in relief, tears welling up in her eyes. "I kept calling for you, kept _begging_ for her to tell me you were alright… I thought you were dead!"

She goes to get up, but she soon realizes that she's chained to the wall. She looks up, startled, and is about to look around, when it happens. A dark, black light hits her, screams being ripped out of her throat. Immediately, she claws at her skin, needing to get out of her skin less she be burned alive.

Harry's crying, his own screams echoing throughout the room as he struggles fiercely within his own binds, desperate to get to her, desperate to _help_.

"How does it feel, Potter?" Rodolphus cackles, a big smirk on his face. "No matter how much pain I inflicted you with, you wouldn't break. To be honest, I didn't know what to do. Then, we started talking, and I realized your one and only weakness… You hate being helpless. From there, it was only too easy to get you right where I want to."

He pauses and goes to stand right by the writhing girl, leaning down to brush a stray strand of her hair out of her face.

"Doesn't she look beautiful when she's in pain?" he purrs. He turns towards Rabastan, an eyebrow raised. "Would you like to have a go?"

Immediately, Harry's screams grow louder, his mind seeming to freeze with the startling realization of what Rodolphus was planning to do to his friend.

"Please," he reduces himself to begging. "Leave her alone. I'll never call you stupid again, never question you. Please, I'll do whatever you want. _Please_."

Rodolphus turns to him with a smirk, a certain twinkle in his eyes.

"It's too late for that, Mr. Potter," he tells him softly. "You have made your choice. Now, the mud blood has to deal with it."

For what seems like forever, Harry is forced to witness as his best friend is violated in the worst of ways. He watches as they remove her pants, watches as they run their vile hands down her body, ignoring her screams. He watches as tears fall down her eyes, watches as she looks at him pleadingly, silently begging him to release her from the pain. He watches as they thrust into her, her blood acting as a natural lubricant. He watches as the light finally leaves her eyes, her mind shutting down to get away from the pain. He watches as they use a spell to get her to focus, denying her even that.

He watches all of this with tears staining his cheeks, with blood coating his hands from where he tried to yank at his chains, with guilt shattering his heart as Hermione is destroyed in every way

 _The Boy Who Lived_ , he thinks. _What a joke._

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Harry's not sure how long he's been here. He simply knows that Hermione is across from him, her eyes devoid of all emotion, and his throat is hoarse from screaming.

For a moment, he wants to laugh at the irony of their situation.

In the middle of the torture, they had prayed that they would be left alone, that they would be given a reprieve, but this seems to be worse than the actual torture. Here, they are forced to think about what they've endured, are forced to find a way to live with it, but that seems to be impossible.

How can Harry possibly look Hermione in the eye? He watched her get violated and did nothing; he watched her get tortured and did nothing; he watched her get hurt and did _nothing_.

It's all his fault. Had he just given in to Rodolphus' demands and broke down, none of this would have happened. Instead, he had to be stubborn and prideful, had to ignore the pain and keep running his damn mouth.

Now, look where that's gotten them.

"Harry," a voice says quietly, emotionlessly. Harry looks up, startled, and is not prepared to look into the deadened eyes of his best friend. "How could you let them do this to me?"

He opens his mouth, desperately wanting to say something, but finds himself unable to.

"How could you let them hurt me, Harry?" she continues. "I thought we were friends. What happened to us being there for each other?"

"Hermione, I-"

"It should have been _you_."

Time seems to stop. Harry sits there and stares at her, his mouth open in shock. Her words resound in his head, taunting him, _mocking_ him.

" _It should have been you."_

" _It should have been you."_

" _It should have been you."_

" _It should have been y-"_

He feels like he's going crazy, like he's losing himself. He wants to apologize, wants to make things right, but he _can't._ The damage has been done.

 _It's all my fault,_ he thinks. _All my fault, all my fault, all my fault, all my fa-"_

"What the hell's wrong with you, boy?" Rodolphus asks, the door suddenly opening. Harry pauses, his mouth opening soundlessly. He looks over to Hermione, only to see her leaning on the wall, her eyes closed.

… _She's asleep?_

"Mumbling like that," Rodolphus continues, shaking his head. "I told the boss you're a nut-case, but no one listens to me, do they?"

He moves to Harry and removes his binds, picking him up with little to no effort. He makes a move to the door, but pauses when Harry screams in outrage. Looking towards the sleeping girl and back at Harry, he sighs.

"She's not coming," he tells the boy. "Don't force it either, or I'll be forced to do what I did last time."

He pauses and looks at the girl again, smiling at the memory.

"On second thought, that might not be a bad idea…"

Harry shakes his head, and gestures towards the door. Rodolphus almost looks sad for a moment, but he acquiesces and heads towards the door.

Left behind, Hermione slumbers peacefully, unaware of the turmoil that plagues her best friend.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"What have you done?" Voldemort yells, clutching Harry to his chest protectively. He snarls at his follower, his eyes glowing a bright red. "I told you to _detain_ him, not _torture_ him!"

"My Lord," Rodolphus protests. "I thought you would like the boy to be more subservient."

"You have made him more dangerous than ever!" the Dark Lord snarls angrily. "A fractured mind is more dangerous than a logical one."

"He withstood my torture! He has not fallen into the pits of insanity," Rodolphus tries to deny.

"Look into his eyes," the Dark Lord seethes, itching to curse the retarded man. "Insanity lurks within his depths. You say he was mumbling to himself when you went into his cell? That is a clear symptom!"

"He is fine, I assure you," Rodolphus hastens to say. He opens his mouth, no doubt about to say more, but Voldemort beats him to the punch.

"Get out," he says, his voice deadly. Rodolphus rushes to do as he says, scared of gaining any more of his Lord's ire.

Left alone in his study, the Dark Lord turns around to regard the child with warm eyes.

"I apologize for his behavior," he says silkily. "That was not supposed to happen."

"My friend," Harry whispers, voice hoarse. "Dead, dead, dead, dead eyes."

"Don't panic," Voldemort says, attempting to sooth him. He reaches forward and gently rubs his fingers into Harry's temples, pulling him close. "Your friend will be safe."

"Why are you being so nice?" Harry asks after a moment, his eyes clearing up. He peers at Voldemort with curiosity, intrigue tainting his tone.

"I planned to court you," the Dark Lord admits. "The prophecy never said that we had to be enemies. If we work with each other, rather than against, we should be fine."

"Why court me, though?" Harry asks, confused. "We could have been allies."

"You have all the qualities I look for in a consort. You're strong willed, reliable, and intelligent."

"Most people would disagree with you there," Harry says, laughing. He quickly sobers up, though, the knowledge that he's having a cordial conversation with his enemy suddenly striking him.

"Can you let Hermione go?" he asks, softly. "She's been through so much."

"I shall release her," Voldemort says nodding. "Although, if you want her to leave the compound, she'll have to be obliviated. She's seen too much."

"That may be for the better," Harry muses. "She's been through so much. I'd hate for her to have to remember it."

"Then, it's settled. I'll have her obliviated and returned to Hogwarts," the Dark Lord says decisively. At Harry's laugh, he looks at the teenager, an eyebrow raised.

"It's surreal," Harry tells him. "I've been told my whole life that you were the enemy, that you retained no semblance of sanity, yet here you are displaying a wide array of intelligence."

"Dumbledore wants people to think that way about me," Voldemort says in response. "It's much easier to fight an enemy if you underestimate them."

"I'm not going to lie," Harry begins hesitantly. "I _am_ still scared of you. Apart of me wonders if I'll wake up and learn that all of this was a delusion my mind conjured to protect me. I'm not going to pretend there's nothing wrong with me because there is. Unlike what your minion thinks, his torture had _done_ something to me. I see things that you guys don't, _hear_ things that I wish I couldn't hear. Even now, I can hear Hermione's screams in my head, her voice saying, _It should have been you_. If you choose to be with me, you'll have to put up with all of that."

"I will," Tom assures him. He reaches forward and pulls Harry into a hug, leaning in to whisper directly into the child's ear. "I promise that you will no longer have to fend for yourself in this world. I will not allow anyone, even you and I, to make you feel unstable."

"How could you have possibly have hidden this side of yourself?" Harry asks, intrigued. "You're kind and caring, but to the rest of the world, you're evil."

"If you put up a façade, you'll be amazed what kind of things you could achieve," Voldemort says with a smirk. He pulls away from the hug and grabs Harry's hand. "Let's get something to eat, shall we?"

Harry nods, and acquiesces when Voldemort gently tugs him to the door. For a moment, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can trust his supposed enemy.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Assignment 11, Defense Against the Dark Arts – Task 2 – Write about someone re-living their most painful memory repeatedly.**

 **Build a Fic Competition – (Dialogue) "Don't panic," (Word) Echo, (Object) Broken Bones, (Spell) Crucio, (Action) Hug.**

 **Word Count: 2,317**


	219. Drabble 219: MerlinGellert (Very Sappy)

**Title: Ensnared by the Senses**

 **Pairing: Merlin x Gellert**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Sexual content referenced.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

With a small smile, Merlin watches as his beloved reads his favorite book, _Macbeth._ While Gellert claims to have a resentment towards Muggles, at the very least, he acknowledges that they have contributed quality works to the world. Every time he comes across one of these works, his eyes will light up with happiness and he will sit down to indulge in it, momentarily forgetting his hatred towards the non-magics.

Once upon a time, Merlin had hated that about his partner. He couldn't understand why Gellert focused most of his anger towards innocent people. Like the old proverb goes, don't let a few bad apples spoil the bunch. In the beginning of their relationship, they had a lot of problems with this. They'd argue and spew utter filth at one another, only to come together at a later hour and apologize. It had been a tedious cycle, but they managed to work something out.

If Gellert had a justifiable reason to bad-mouth the Muggles, he could talk about it to Merlin. If he didn't, he was to say nothing. If Merlin had a justifiable reason to praise the Muggles, he could talk about it to Gellert. If he didn't, he was to say nothing. In the end, this arrangement had saved them a lot of stress.

Smiling silently to himself, Merlin picks up two wine glasses and places them gently on a tray, taking a moment to pour one of their more expensive white wines into it. Delicately, he picks up the tray and takes it back to his beloved, not taking any offense when Gellert didn't instantly look up. When he was engrossed in a particularly good book, the blond tended to ignore reality.

Placing the tray down, he goes to wrap his arms around Gellert, peering over his shoulder to read a line from the book.

"Let not light see my black and deep desire," he recites, his voice low and smooth. "This quote reminds me of you, my love."

"How so?" Gellert questions, smiling. He pulls back to press a kiss onto Merlin's cheek, delighting in the feel of his stubble against his lips.

"When we first began to make love, you were hesitant to let me see your darkest desires," Merlin states. He presses a kiss to the corner of Gellert's mouth, laughing when the blond tries to bite him.

"I wasn't nervous," Gellert corrects, pouting. "I was simply trying to protect your innocence."

"Honey," Merlin begins, chuckling. "I haven't been innocent in centuries."

"…Touché," Gellert reluctantly says. Merlin laughs and pulls back. Walking around the desk, he doesn't stop until he's directly in front of his beloved. Tenderly, he grasps his own cup and waits for Gellert to do the same.

"A toast," he declares with a smile, "to the most wonderful man on Earth."

"Oh?" Gellert asks with a smile. He mimics looking around, laughing when Merlin swats him lightly. "Who is he?"

"You," Merlin says, sobering up. He leans forward and presses a kiss onto Gellert's lips, careful to not bump into the other's glass. "You've changed so much since you met me, and I'm so proud of you."

"It was nothing," Gellert says, blushing. "You were right. At the rate I was going, I would have ended up dead long before I sought my goals."

"That's not the only reason, right?" Merlin teases. "I gave you an ultimatum, if I recall. You could continue your deadly regime and be alone, or you could remodel it and be happy."

"Don't flatter yourself," Gellert tells him, shaking his head. "I had already been planning to change it anyway."

"Liar," Merlin says, chuckling. "You were so dead-set on your plans."

Huffing, Gellert clinks their glasses together and takes a sip from his own. Eyes gleaming with unrestrained mischief, Gellert pulls Merlin closer by his vest and presses their lips together in a kiss. Lazily, he pushes the wine in his mouth into Merlin's own, relishing in the delicious slide of their tongue against one another. When he pulls back, he grins, satisfied.

"In the end, does it matter?" he asks. "I have everything I could possibly want."

"You are a prick," Merlin says, smiling. He leans in for another kiss. "Luckily, you're _my_ prick."

"I'm not your prick," Gellert denies, smirking. "After all, it's pretty hard to fuck yourself."

Merlin lets out a sharp laugh, his eyes going wide with disbelief.

"You're dirty," he says, astounded. Gellert's smirk merely widens.

"And this is news to you?" he asks, one eyebrow raised. In retaliation, Merlin tugs one of his blond curls.

"You're not getting any action tonight," he declares, walking away. Gellert's smirk immediately disappears, this time being replaced with a look of shock.

"No, anything but that," he begs, scared out of his mind. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

Merlin turns with a smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"You better not," he warns. Taking several strides forward, he pulls Gellert into his arms and kisses him.

"Shall we have make-up sex?" he asks with a salacious smile.

"We didn't actually argue," Gellert reminds him with a grin, chuckling. Merlin puts a finger to his mouth, whispering, " _Shh."_

"Only we know that," Merlin tells him. "Besides, make-up sex is _great_."

"Alright," Gellert says, giving in. Gently, he takes Merlin's hand within his own and leads him to the bedroom, giving him a seductive wink. "Let's have some fun."

Merlin follows him a with a grin, excitement clear in his eyes. This is going to be fun indeed.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Word Count: 928.**


	220. Drabble 220: TomBellatrix

**Title: Casualties of Love**

 **Pairing: Tom/Bellatrix**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Summary: In the name of love, Bellatrix shall end the life of her sister. In the name of righteousness, she will purge the Wizarding World of mud-bloods.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Narcissa watches her sister with saddened eyes, despair thrumming through her veins. How had it come to this? Once upon a time, they had been happy, joyous, even. How could their relationship have become so twisted, so _warped?_ How could Bellatrix, her beloved sister, possibly give herself to the King of Darkness? How could Bellatrix be content with doing it without her, her sister?

With a strong sense of betrayal stirring in her heart, Narcissa does the only thing she can do under such circumstances. Slowly, hesitantly, she raises her wand.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I wish it hadn't come to this."

Bellatrix, it seems, doesn't hear her. That's okay, she thinks. Now, her sister doesn't have to fully face what she's about to unleash. Closing her eyes, Narcissa takes a deep breath. As if on autopilot, she whispers the words that will change the nature of their relationship forever.

"Avada Kedavra."

To her surprise, Bellatrix dodges her attack and another green light sails through the air. The last thing she sees is a bright, green light.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Are you prepared to live with the consequences?" Tom asks, intrigued. He stares at Narcissa's body with something akin to elation. "Perhaps, you did not love her as much as I thought."

"You're wrong," Bellatrix says softly, taking a step forward. She approaches her sister's body slowly and crouches down next to her. Gently, she cups one of her sister's rapidly cooling cheeks within her hand, love shining in her eyes. "My love is what coerced me to kill her."

"How so?" Tom asks, finally looking at her. His lips are quirked up in a mocking smile and pity shines in his eyes.

"Had she stayed alive, we would have eventually met on the battlefield," Bellatrix points out, shrugging. "I would have been forced to destroy her in a manner befitting of my title."

"You must take me for an idiot," Tom remarks, rolling his eyes. "This had nothing to do with your impending battle. You just wanted to take care of her before she became an emotional burden."

"Perhaps," Bellatrix concedes. She smiles down at Narcissa's body, a spark hidden with her eyes. "However, you'd have done the same."

"Never said I wouldn't," Tom says aloud, smirking. "However, are you prepared to deal with the emotional backlash? In the end, you loved her. That love will haunt you forever."

"I'll deal with it," Bellatrix says confidently, tearing her eyes away from her sister. She rises from her crouch, her eyes alight with a fiery sort of determination. "Even if it haunts me every moment of my life, I will deal with it. It shall not get in the way of our plans."

Tom approaches her, his eyes mirroring her own.

"See that it doesn't," he whispers when they're only inches apart. "Should it interfere, I will put an end to it." He cups her cheek, his gray eyes boring into hers. "I will spend decades torturing you with the knowledge that you killed your sister. What you experience here on out will have nothing on what I will do to you."

"It shall not happen," Bellatrix repeats, standing her ground. The air around them grows tense, a faint sense of foreboding littering it. Finally, Tom smiles, the tense air evaporating completely. Inwardly, Bellatrix sighs in relief.

"Shall we leave?" he asks softly. "Our empire will not build itself."

"We shall," Bellatrix acquiesces. She grins, the expression genuine. "Let us purge the Wizarding World of the Mud-bloods and allow a new era to reign."

She apparates with a soft crack, her cackles echoing in the air. In her wake, her dead sister resides, a warning to any who dare interfere.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **\- Apparition - Assignment 12 - Write about a tragic moment when somebody has to leave someone behind. Extra Prompts: (Character) Bellatrix Lestrange, (Theme) Death.**

 **\- 100 Pairings Challenge - Submission 1: Voldemort x Bellatrix.**

 **\- Colors of the Rainbow Challenge - Submission 1 - Red, Prompt 2: Write about a character killing or torturing another character.**

 **\- Word Count: 609.**


	221. Drabble 221: MrMrs Bones

**Title: Alone and Afraid**

 **Pairing: N/A**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Suicide, major character death, alternate reality.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Like sand, time can fall right through your fingers. Vividly, Susan can remember a time where she was happy, a time where her family was still alive. She can remember her mother hugging her, telling her that everything was going to be alright. She can remember her father pressing a kiss onto her forehead, bidding her goodbye as he set off to fight with Dumbledore. She can remember the letter that came to the house, reminiscing on the death of her father. She can remember her mother giving in to the desperation and taking her life.

"Mommy," she had screamed, near tears. Her small fists pounded on the bathroom door, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She can remember the moment the tears finally fell, falling down her cheeks in fat drops. She can remember her mother whispering apologies hysterically, an ongoing mantra of, "Susan, get away from the door," falling from her lips.

She can remember ignoring her mother, her body pressed against the door as she fought desperately to get in, and she can remember her mother's parting words, "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."

Clearly, she can remember the deafening silence that had encased the house, can remember her body slumping in defeat, can remember her mind displaying several gruesome images of her mom laying on the floor, her pale wrist stained with her blood.

She can remember when the Aurors came, their yelled orders muffled as they physically burst the bathroom door open. She can remember when her Aunt finally arrived and picked her up into her arms, telling her not to look, "that a child shouldn't have to see their mother like that."

Although she can remember all of this, one thing sticks out clearly in her young mind. Her mother, a normally strong and independent woman, was stained in blood. Her hair laid in a limp mess, shedding light on some of the torment she had gone through. However, that's not what draws Susan's attention. Instead, her small gaze is focused on her mother's lips, on the small smile that graces them.

As her mother is taken away, Susan watches on, a morbid sense of curiosity surging through her. Why was her mom smiling? Was she in a happy place?

Two months later, in the safety of her Auntie's bathroom, Susan finally finds the answer.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club - Bronze - Susan Bones - Write about Susan Bones.**

 **Word Count: 392.**


	222. Drabble 222: GodricSalazar

**Title: We're Through**

 **Pairing: Godric x Salazar**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Silence rings through their shared chambers.

"You've been disloyal," Salazar finally says, his eyes hardening. Before him, Godric nods wearily, his shoulders tense.

"I have," he admits, "but it's not what you think."

"Save it," Salazar snaps, sneering. "Treachery is treachery, no matter the circumstances."

"This doesn't change anything," Godric says, near tears. "My love for you is just as strong as it was before-"

"Did you feel said love when you made sweet love to her?" Salazar interrupts with a cruel smile. "Feel anything other than spite and lust as you gave yourself to her?"

"I was hurt," Godric feebly tries to defend. "I only desired your presence, yet you denied me. I felt abandoned."

"So, anytime I don't give you attention, you will dive into someone else's bed?" Salazar asks dangerously, his hands twitching by his sides. His pale skin steadily darkens, a searing red beginning to replace the milky white color. He turns on his heel, unable to take anymore of such nonsense, but a hand wraps around his shoulder.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," Godric says, voice low, "but I love you. I will never make such a mistake again, will never do anything that will hurt you. Please, if you hold any love for me, allow us to start over."

"You dare ask me for such a thing?" Salazar questions. His voice cracks, a tear beginning to fall down his cheek. He glares at Godric with such fury the man cringes. "All those years ago, I warned you. _'I don't do well with treachery'_ , I told you. _'Don't worry'_ , you said, _'I promise to never hurt you, to cherish the love and hope you give me.'_ What happened to that, Godric?"

"It was a mistake," the Knight repeats. "It will never happen again."

"You're right," Salazar agrees, his attitude seeming to do a complete one eighty. He smiles at him, the expression stale. "You won't hurt me again because we're breaking up."

Without a second thought, he leaves, ignoring the pleading of his ex. While his heart cries for the other man, he refuses to turn back, the old proverb, _once a cheater, always a cheater_ , ringing in his head.

They're done.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club - Zacharias Smith - Use the prompts Abandon, Attitude, Hope, and Disloyal in your story.**

 **Word Count: 367.**


	223. Drabble 223: MerlinGellert

**Title: Innocence Forsaken**

 **Pairing: Merlin/Gellert**

 **Rating: Mature (Graphic Descriptions)**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

A child, no older than the age of five, cautiously climbs the stairs of his house.

"Mommy?" the child calls softly, confused. He continues up the stairs and heads to the right, his eyes glued to the door of his parents' room. "Daddy?"

Reaching the door, he reaches out to grasp the knob, frowning when he notices a crimson stain on it.

"This isn't funny," he says, pouting. Turning the knob, he doesn't hesitate to open the door, a startled scream ripping itself from his throat when he sees the contents of the room. His mother is hanging from the ceiling fan, her body limp. She's naked, save for the tatters of her shirt, and blood cakes her thighs. His father is on the ground, his eyes wide open. His torso is completely ripped open, his guts leaking out, and Gellert can't help but back away in fright.

"Wake up," he says demandingly, flinching when he receives no response. Steeling himself, he runs to his mother and taps her vigorously on the stomach, pleading, begging for her to wake up.

"Mommy, please," he asks for what feels like the hundredth time, tears cascading down his cheeks. He runs to his father, begging him to do the same.

"They aren't going to respond to you, Kid," a voice says. Turning around, Gellert's eyes widen when he sees a man standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a maniacal glint within his stormy, blue eyes.

"Help me," Gellert says pleadingly. He looks towards his parents, feeling absurdly helpless. "Please, help me!"

"I can't do that," the voice tells him, taking a step forward. Gellert sees a flash of long, crimson hair, so very reminiscent of the blood that leaks from his parents. "They're already dead."

The wheels within Gellert's head turn, prompting him to take a step back. He looks at the stranger under a new light, his entire body tense.

"You didn't do this, right?" he asks fearfully. The man in the doorway laughs, the sound startling within the silence around them.

"What would you do if I said yes?" the man asks in return, a shark-like grin coming onto his face. "Would you shrink back in fright, the image of your parent's haunting you?"

He takes another step forward, prompting Gellert to take another step back. They keep doing this until Gellert's back connects with the wall, the man caging him in with his body.

"Or would you fight me, desperate to avenge your parents?"

The man leans in close, his breath fanning over Gellert's face. With a mirthful chuckle, he pulls away.

"I think I'll allow you to make the decision another day," he muses, heading towards the door. Stupefied, Gellert watches him. "After all, you're no match for me the way you are. Find me when you are stronger, when your anger has reached new levels. Only then will you be worthy."

Left behind, a previously innocent flower is sullied by the sick desires of another.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

Electric, blue eyes flutter open. Merlin sits up with a groan and clutches his aching forehead.

"What happened?" he asks himself, wincing at how high his voice is. He brings a hand to his throat and tries speaking again, shaking his head when he notices that it's still high.

"Very funny, Gaius," he says loudly, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, so change me back."

He looks around for the first time, realizing that he is nowhere near the castle. In fact, he's not even sure he's in Camelot anymore. Panicked, he stands up and surveys the area around him, concerned when all he sees is trees.

"What in the world…?" he trails off, shocked. Looking down, he is surprised to note that he is wearing a white button-down shirt, a bright blue vest, and black slacks. He hasn't worn that since his teenage years. That's when it clicks. The high voice, the clothes from his past life... My, it couldn't be…

Using his magic, he conjures a mirror, shocked when he finds that he is right. His eighteen-year-old visage stares back at him, unblinking.

"Seven hells," he whispers. Allowing the mirror to disappear, he turns towards his surroundings, his mind ablaze with hundreds of questions. Where is he? What business did he have here? Where is Arthur? Where is Gaius? Lord knows the man would never allow him to wander around by himself.

Deciding that he really shouldn't ask himself so many questions lest he drives himself insane, he decides to set out into his surroundings, hoping to garner information that way. As he treks through the forest around him, he finds nothing for a long, long time. Soon, night fall comes. He's seriously about to stop when it happens. First, he hears rustling. Then, a loud banging. With a loudly thumping heart, Merlin surges through the forest, intrigued as to what could be making such a noise.

That's when he finds him.

A boy with shoulder-length blonde hair is engaged in combat with a dark-haired wizard. His blonde locks swing with every movement he makes, adding to the elegance of his motions. Stormy, gray eyes regard their target with honed precision, no doubt watching and calculating every movement his opponent makes. His body, while lithe and petite, sails through the air smoothly, delivering spell after spell. Finally, his lips move soundlessly, giving his opponent no hint as to what he is about to do.

All in all, he is breathtaking. However, Merlin can't help the nagging suspicion that perhaps that there is more than meets the eye.

The fight continues for a while, but, just like Merlin suspects, the blonde comes out on top. Once his enemy is dead, the boy turns towards Merlin with startling accuracy, his eyebrows raised challengingly.

"Come out of the shadows," he demands, his voice ringing through the clearing. Smiling, Merlin does as the boy says and raises his arms in a placating way.

"I didn't mean to impose," Merlin says, "I'm merely trying to find my way out of this blasted forest."

"You're heading the wrong way," the boy says after a moment, his eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Soon enough, you'd have reached the center of it."

"Thank you," Merlin says sincerely. He moves to turn around, but something urges him to say, "What's a pretty boy like you doing out here, anyway?"

At once, the other's demeanor changes. His body stiffens and he raises his wand high into the air, an unsaid warning practically radiating off his body.

"If you must know," he says slowly, carefully. "I am becoming stronger."

He pauses as if gauging Merlin's reaction, and Merlin is immensely pleased by the level of caution he is displaying, even if it isn't necessary needed.

"Who are you hoping to defeat?" he asks, curiosity getting the best of him. While he's surprised the teen told him of his intentions, he can't help but think it's a challenge of sorts. Had Merlin shown a negative reaction, the child would have probably tried to kill him. Since he had shown a positive response, the child would probably let him live.

"The guy who murdered my parents," the teen whispers. The words are said so softly that Merlin would have never heard them unless he was paying attention. Mind flashing to the murder of his own parents, Merlin could feel a hot, fiery ball of righteous anger begin to swell in the pit of his stomach. That's when he realizes that when the child had been fighting, he hadn't been expressing rage at his opponent. Rather, he had been expressing rage at the person who had hurt him so deeply, so profoundly.

In that moment, Merlin knows he would not part from this kid.

"What's your name?" he asks softly, curiously. The teen peers at him with suspicion for a long while; however, upon recognizing the similar light in Merlin's eyes, his body relaxes marginally.

"Gellert," the child whispers. "Gellert Grindelwald."

From that point onwards, they are inseparable.

* * *

 **AN: I know that the ending is a little (read: a lot) ambiguous, but I wanted the readers to determine what they wanted to happen. There are three routes this could have gone: 1) With the help of Merlin, Gellert could have gotten his revenge. 2) With the help of Merlin, Gellert could have been close to getting his revenge; however, when he threatens to lose himself to his rage, Merlin stops him. 3) Another direction entirely. I feel like it would be unfair for me, the author, to decide. Though, no matter what direction they would have gone in, they would have still gotten together. I like to think of this as a slice of life story. More specifically, the beginning of their life together.**

 **Also, this was written for the OTP competition over on the Hogwarts forum. I was supposed to write a Time-Travel Trope. As Merlin came from the past, something that pushes the story forward in the sense that Gellert doesn't lose himself, I believe I have fulfilled my prompt.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	224. Drabble 224: GodricSalazar

**Title: Until the End of Time**

 **Pairing: Godric Gryffindor x Salazar Slytherin**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Warnings: Sexual Encounters, Nipple Play.**

* * *

~~o-O-o-~~

* * *

A mischievous tongue dances across his chest, only pausing when it reaches a hardened nub. It lavishes it with attention, drawing gasp after pleasurable gasp from the trembling participant beneath it. A pale hand tweaks the other nipple at random intervals, relishing in the broken moans the other would release.

Eyes half-lidded, Salazar blearily peers out into the world, his entire frame trembling from the onslaught of pleasure. He wants to stop Godric, wants to maintain what little dignity he has left and lick his wounds, but he can't. Despite himself, he wants more, more of this salacious touch.

"Please," he gasps, keening when Godric bites down gently.

"Please, what, love?" the Knight teases, repeating the action. He looks up through his lashes, his bright, green eyes alight with playfulness. "Do it again?"

"Stop," Salazar begs, tears of bliss coming to his eyes. Godric's eyes soften, and he finally pulls away from the abused nubs.

"I'm sorry, love," he apologizes, his hands rubbing soothingly down Salazar's sides. "Your nipples are just too inviting."

"They're not," Salazar tries to protest. Godric shakes his head and leans down to kiss him, hovering when he pulls back.

"They are," he breathes against Salazar's lips. "Whenever I pay attention to them, they jump and beg for my affections. I can't help but want to turn them into a pretty red color."

"That's nipple abuse," Salazar points out, eyebrow raised. "Who would have thought that Godric Gryffindor, supposedly the nicest person in the world, would have such evil desires?"

"When it comes to you, my dear," Godric purrs, one of his hands trailing upwards to pinch an abused nipple, "all of my inhibitions are lost. You cry so prettily for me; I can't help but want to see it more often."

"Sadist," Salazar says fondly, shaking his head. Godric merely laughs, his head tipping back in an all too mesmerizing way. Here, when he's being pinned to the bed by Godric's laughing form, Salazar finds himself at peace. This is the heaven he's chased after for so long.

"I love you," he whispers after a moment, overcome by emotion. Godric looks down at him, tears of mirth in his eyes.

"As do I," he says with a smile. He leans down to kiss Salazar once more, relishing in the unique taste of his lover. "And I shall continue to love you until the end of time."

In the future, Salazar will swear that he did _not_ cry upon hearing that; however, for now, he can't deny the tears of happiness that trail down his cheeks. While their path has been a grievous one, they have finally found peace.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **The FRIENDS Competition on the HPFC forum - Season 7, Episode 2 - Write some smut (whether that be a lemon or lime is up to you).**

 **Word Count - 444**


	225. Drabble 225: Harry

**Title: Forced to Endure**

 **Pairing: None**

 **Rating: Explicit**

 **Warnings: Suicide attempt, depression.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

When one's entire world threatens to come crashing down on them, what are they supposed to do? In the beginning, Harry would have said that they were supposed to fight, that they owed it to themselves to keep going, to keep trying. Now; however, he can't abide by that.

He's lying against the bathtub, the cool metal providing a soothing contrast to his absurdly hot skin. A razor resides within his hand, its edges coated in a thick, crimson liquid. His wrists, which had previously been pale, are now covered with jagged scars. His eyes are half-lidded, and his breathing is slow. Thoughts come and go quickly, the only lasting impression being that of the numbness coursing through his veins. For once, blessed silence echoes throughout the world. Finally, he is at peace.

Of course, someone would take that from him.

Hermione rushes through the door, his note held within her shaking hand. She looks at him, and he can visibly see the panic as it washes over her.

"Oh, Harry," he hears her sob, the sound distant. She moves closer, eventually dropping to her knees beside him. "I'm so sorry."

Absently, he wonders what she's sorry for. His mind is still focused on the way his blood sluggishly moves through his veins, as if wanting to stop altogether. Nonetheless, he registers the way she walks away from him, her voice traveling over from the living room.

"Ron," she seems to say into the fire place, her voice raspy from how much she is crying. "It's Harry… Merlin, he's…"

He tunes out the rest of the conversation and closes his eyes. The darkness looks so pretty. He can't help but want to fall into it, to be immersed in it forever. He registers Hermione coming back into the room, Ron by her side.

"It's going to be okay," Ron says soothingly, brushing the raven hair from his sweaty forehead. He pulls Harry into his arms, lifting him effortlessly. In the back of his head, Harry thinks he should have probably eaten more. They carry him out; however, as they near the door, Harry begins to register the fact that they're taking him somewhere else.

"Down," he croaks out, voice raspy. "Want to stay here."

Hermione looks at him, concern shining within her eyes. He feels sick just thinking about it.

"It's going to be okay, Harry," she tells him softly. "We have you."

"No," he manages to say a little louder. "Want to go to the darkness."

"You're hysterical," she counters easily, the concern more pronounced. She looks towards Ron, her eyes narrowed in thought. "We need to apparate. Now."

Ron does so with little to no hesitation. One minute they're there, the next minute they aren't. Panic rises within Harry's chest, the darkness long forgotten. His blood begins to rush through his veins again, the numb feeling leaving him. All he can feel is pain. More specifically, pain from his wrist. Doctors and Nurses alike are screaming in his ears, each one pulling him in every which way, and he's scared.

He wants to leave, wants to head back into the darkness, but they won't let them. They're connecting wires to him, one of them screaming, "Clear!" every few minutes. It's all too much. He _needs_ the darkness.

He closes his eyes, intending to force himself back into that state, but someone lightly taps him on the face.

"Can't sleep like that," he says, annoyed. He tries again, growling when they do it again.

"Don't go to sleep," the voice orders. Harry tries again, just to prove that he could if he wanted to. As expected, the irritating tap comes again.

"Wanna die," he slurs. At once, the noise around him dies. Curious, he opens his eyes, surprised when he looks into the stunned eyes of the doctors, nurses, and more importantly, Ron and Hermione. "I'm sorry," he says after a moment.

"Harry," Hermione croaks, taking a step forward. Her shoulders tremble with barely restrained grief, her eyes welling up with tears. "Surely, you don't mean that?"

"I do," Harry confides, feeling _tired._ "Ever since the war, I've been either a hero or a villain. I'm so _done_ with that."

"Doctors," Hermione says, turning to face them. Her features set into a determined line, her eyes alight with fierce determination. "Make sure he's okay, alright?"

The doctors nod and begin to work on healing him, ignoring Harry's attempt at pulling way. In that moment; however, Harry sees his friend in a new light. A startling sense of clarity overtakes him.

She will not let him die. Even if he's forced to endure every trying burden in the world; even if his spirit is crushed beyond repair, she will not allow him the sweet bliss of freedom.

In that moment, his life feels more like a curse than a blessing.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **The FRIENDS Competition over on HPFC - Season 7, Episode 13 - Rosita Dies - Write about depression.**

 **Word Count: 823.**


	226. Drabble 226: GinnyHarry

**Title: Broken Promises**

 **Pairing: Ginny/Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: Infidelity, heartbreak.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

 _Her eyes are alight with happiness, and her infectious laugh rings throughout the foyer. Harry, ever the entranced man, can't help but think she has never looked so beautiful._

 _"_ _I love you," he tells her, voice sincere. Ginny looks at him, her eyes softening in an all too familiar way._

 _"_ _I love you, too," she says, chuckling. She laces their fingers together, a promise falling from her tongue, "and I shall love you until the end of days."_

 _In that moment, Harry can't help but believe her._

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Harry?" Ron calls softly, his voice echoing throughout the silent house. Gently, he closes the door behind him and walks further into the house. "Where are you?"

When no answer comes, he frowns; however, upon hearing muffled sobs coming from the bedroom, he rushes towards its direction. Immediately, he throws open the door and is surprised to find his best friend sitting on the floor, his head buried in his hands.

"Harry?" he tries again, walking to his friend slowly. Harry looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. Ron's face blanks at the look, the red-head unable to process the strange turn of events. When it finally clicks, though, he goes to sit by Harry. "What's wrong?"

Those eyes look at him, their depths haunted, and Ron has never wanted to kill someone so badly in his life. Who had hurt his friend? Wrapping his arms around Harry, he pulls the boy close, hoping to share as much comfort as he possibly could.

"There, there," he consoles softly, the words foreign on his tongue. "Whatever it is, it's okay."

Harry continues to sob, the sound heartbreaking.

"I don't get it," he says after a moment, looking up at Ron. He looks so lost, so fragile, and it's killing Ron to look at him. "How could she betray me?"

"Who, Harry?" Ron gently prods, tightening his hold. He presses a kiss to Harry's head, hoping it'd offer him some modicum of comfort.

"Ginny," Harry says after a moment, voice breaking. A new wave of tears falls from his eyes, this one more intense than the last. "I thought she said she would love me forever?"

"Oh, Harry," Ron sighs, distraught. "What did she do?"

The raven shakes his head, and Ron, not wanting to push him, doesn't ask again. Instead, he continues to hold Harry to him, promising him that everything was going to be alright, that he wasn't going to leave him until he knew Harry would be fine.

If, in the back of his mind, he thinks about killing his sister, can you blame him?

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **The FRIENDS Competition on HPFC - Season 7, Episode 7 - The Nap Partners - Write about your BrOTP.**

 **Word Count: 432**


	227. Drabble 227: CormacHermione

**Title: Of Masks and Betrayal**

 **Pairing: Cormac/Hermione (one-sided), Ron/Hermione.**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: A character hiding their feelings.**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

In a world filled with darkness, Hermione Granger is a beacon of light. Whenever Cormac experiences his lowest moments, he'll seek her out. Her brown hair, which she tries so adorably to tame, will bounce on her shoulders repeatedly. Her eyes, a lovely chocolate, will gleam with intelligence, their depths seeming to be all knowing. Her figure, while lithe, is curvy in all the right places.

She has grown up, her body an accurate representation of that, but her looks aren't want captured his attention. He desires her because of how kind she is, because of how determined she becomes in her pursuit of knowledge, because of how compassionate she is towards animals. From the moment he first saw her in the library, intently studying her book, Cormac had known he wanted her.

Sadly, he won't be able to get her. Thanks to several foolish mistakes he had made to be popular, he has developed a reputation. To others, he is Cormac McLaggen, supreme Casanova. He is to be an absolute flirt; he must insult women whenever he comes across them, is supposed to view them as an object and nothing more; he must dislike books, and be an action sort of guy; he must be no more than a cardboard cutout of the world's douchiest man.

Perhaps, that's why it comes as a shock when Hermione accepts his horrible request to go to Slughorn's party together.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"So, my Uncle said…" Cormac continues to drone on, working hard to not wince himself. He knows he's being a jerk by talking about himself nonstop, knows that Hermione is disinterested judging by the bored look she sports as she looks around. Nonetheless, he keeps going, hating himself with every passing moment.

"Excuse me," Hermione finally cuts in. "I forgot that I have to do something really quick."

Without waiting for a reply, she scampers off, leaving Cormac by himself. Rather, than being sad, Cormac can only feel happiness course through his veins. He doesn't know how long he could've taken that.

Deciding he needs to go get a drink to calm his frazzled nerves, Cormac rises and heads to the punchbowl, surprised to find that it's right next to the door. When he pours his glass and brings it to his lips, he pauses, his eyes wide. He stares at the doorway, shocked to find Hermione locked in an embrace with Ron, their lips connected.

He feels his chest seize up with pain, his heart seeming to drop in his chest. Tears, unbidden, well up in his eyes, yet he holds them back. He can't break down, can't let anyone else know about the person he has tried so hard to hide.

Steeling himself, he turns back into the room, intent on socializing.

His heart may be broken, but at least his reputation is intact.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **The FRIENDS Competition over on HPFC - Season 7, Episode 1 - Monica's Thunder - Alt. Write about Cormac McLaggen.**

 **Word Count: 475**


	228. Drabble 228: DracoHarry

**Title: Be Mine**

 **Pairing: Draco x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **AN: This story is something that takes place years after I imagine Draco and Harry getting together. While I don't have a timeline to give you, imagine that the boys began a secret relationship somewhere in fourth year (when Harry found the RoR). While they pretend to hate each other in the streets, they pledge their love in the sheets. Low key, this is just a mindless drabble. Finally, this is in Harry's POV.**

* * *

 **~~o-O-o~~**

* * *

When he holds me in his arms, his face pressed against the crevice in my neck, I find myself at peace. There has been so much blood shed, so many tears that have spilt, and it's nice to finally have a reprieve from all the pain and despair that follows us around on a daily basis.

Even so, there is something that plagues me. It keeps me up until the darkest hours of the night, forces me to twist and turn within my sheets, sweat pouring down my forehead in small beads. It wakes me up in cold sweats throughout the darkest hours of the night, newly born worries and fears plaguing me.

Despite this, all my symptoms will fade away in the wake of his smile. When he sees me in the corridors and presses a gentle hand behind his ear, a rush of euphoria will fill my soul. I rush to my classes, intent on forcing time to go faster. Alas, it never works. Nevertheless, I refuse to give up.

Then, when it is time, I stand abruptly from my seat and run out of the door, my feet landing harshly on the hardwood flooring as I force myself to go faster and faster, intent on seeing his radiant face. That's when I'll see it. The door will loom impossibly close, its edges gleaming with a faint polish. I rush inside, my body finally relaxing when he turns towards me, a bright smile on his face. He opens his arms and beckons me closer, his voice a comforting melody that forces me to give in and go to him.

I do so with relish, my whole body going limp when he finally embraces me. For the first time in my chaotic life, I am at peace. His scent tickles my nose, and I can't help but want to stay there forever.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

"Harry," he mumbles in my ear, his breath lightly caressing the lobe. "We have to stop this…"

"We don't," I protest, the very thought shaking me to the core. I tilt my head upwards, forcing him to meet my eyes. "If we were to stop, I don't think I'd be able to recover."

"This will only end in pain," he cautions, his voice unsteady. Despite this, his arms tighten around me, as if hesitant to let me go.

"Perhaps it will," I say softly, soothingly. I lean in to press a kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment. Slowly, I pull away and press my forehead against his, relishing in the warmth of his skin against mine. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I don't want you to get hurt," he whispers, voice breaking.

"I'd be hurt if we stopped," I warn him. "I've never known love in all of my years of existence, Draco. Beforehand, my life was simply a means to an end. You've awakened something inside of me, something that begs to be cared for."

"Why can't we go back to how we used to be?" he asks softy. "Pretending to hate each other?"

"If I were to sneer at you without coming back here to apologize, I would die that very moment," I counter easily. "I love you, Draco. I fear that I will never be able to stop loving you."

"But-," he attempts to protest. I cut him off with a heart wrenchingly sweet kiss, attempting to impress my feelings upon him with the action.

"My heart beats for you, my love. Do not fight the love that rushes through your veins. Allow it to envelope you in a cocoon of safety… Let every kiss I press upon your skin stroke the very flames that our love ignites within you."

With every sentence, I lean in and press my lips to his body, worshiping every spot I can reach.

"Be mine. Forever and always."

* * *

 **~~o-O-o~~**

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **\- The Friend's Competition: Season 5, Episode 2 - All the Kissing - Write about a secret relationship.**

 **\- Word Count - June: 653**


	229. Drabble 229: TomHarry (preslash)

**Title: Mad Men**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter (Pre-slash)**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Essential Questions: What if Hagrid had never gifted Hedwig to Harry? What if they visited the Menagerie, and Harry met Mania, a Raven? What if the Dark Lord had been reincarnated sooner?**

 **AN: Written for round 2 of the Quidditch League. My name is Krissy, and I'm the Keeper for the Appleby Arrows. My prompt was the Magical Menagerie. Thanks for reading this!**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Storms rampaged the Earth, causing all its dwellers to hide away within their homes. Furious screams rang throughout the Dursley house, each one growing louder and louder in volume. Vernon, the head of house, paced within the corridors, his eyes alight with furious indignation.

"These freaks dare to invade my home?!" he shrieked, shaking his head in disbelief. His wife, Petunia, quickly ushered their son upstairs, not looking back when she heard the distinct sound of a vase smashing against the wall. When her son was safely tucked away in his room, she took a deep breath and made her way downstairs. When she noticed that her nephew, Harry, was still watching the man with cautious indecision etched onto his face, she harshly pushed him towards the cupboard, hoping that he would get the message.

"Vernon," she said when Harry crawled into the cramped space, "surely they didn't mean to undermine your authority?"

"They have no respect for me!" he roared, ignoring her attempts at placating him. "I shall not stand for this!"

"What will you do?" Petunia asked pointedly, tired of his behavior. "What could you possibly do to people who are stronger than you, _faster_ than you? How could you possibly fight against someone who could have you dead after muttering one, simple spell?"

"I will do what any respectable man would do," Vernon said, looking at her in exasperation. "I will take us to a place where they can't reach us, where they can't possibly cause any more harm."

"You will run?" Petunia asked, her eyebrow arched in skepticism. "What makes you think they will not follow?"

"If they wish to follow," Vernon started, a dangerous gleam within his eye, "they will have to deal with the methods of a mad man." He walked into the living room, his body automatically going towards the armoire in the corner. Determinedly, he pulled out a shotgun, his hand lovingly caressing the barrel.

"I will protect us, even if it costs me my life."

Unknown to them, a young boy lurked in the shadows, his green eyes wide with fright. The child ran back to his cupboard with quiet feet, attempting to stifle his breathing with a hand to his mouth. While he wasn't sure what, Harry knew that things were about to change.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

True to Harry's thoughts, things quickly changed after that night. Vernon took them to a remote island, where they lived in a shack along the edges of the sea. For a while, things had been fine. The letters that assaulted them so vigorously had finally receded. Things were nice, peaceful, even by Harry's standards.

Then, that night came.

A horde of envelopes came out of the fireplace, each one more determined than the last. The house quickly became full of them, the very air they breathed smelling like paper. Vernon was screaming, his hand holding his shotgun possessively. Everyone stood behind him, even Harry. Then, the horde stopped. Like an alarm had been rung, the letters dropped to the ground. No one dared to breathe.

Someone pounded on the door, the wood vibrating from the sheer strength pressed onto it. They waited, their hearts beating rapidly in their chest, until Vernon finally approached the door. His hand hovered hesitantly over the knob, and he looked back at Petunia, an unspoken message in his eyes: _Take Dudley and run._

Before she could acquiesce, the door burst open, a lumbering figure standing within the doorway. Lightning crackled overhead, a loud rumble of thunder echoing throughout the island, and Petunia screamed in fright. A giant walked through the door, his height causing their jaws to drop.

In that moment, Harry was assaulted with a thrill of excitement. It traveled through his veins and made his blood sing. He wanted to question it, but he couldn't. His eyes were locked onto the being in front of him, his mind zeroed in on the waves on pure energy that seemed to radiate around the man.

"Harry?" the giant asked in gruff voice, looking around the room. His eyes rested on Dudley for a moment, until it finally came to rest on Harry. "What're you doing over there? Come on, come on!"

"He's not going anywhere," Vernon snarled out threateningly, coming out of his stupor. He cocked his gun, relishing in the narrowing of Hagrid's eyes.

"What're you talking about?" Hagrid asked, eyebrow raised. "The boy had his name down to attend Hogwarts ever since he was born. He'll be goin' to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, and he'll be under the greatest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen; Albus Dumbledore."

"I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool teach him magic tricks!" Vernon yelled, pointing his shotgun at the giant.

"Never…insult…Albus Dumbledore…in front of me!" Hagrid roared, brandishing his umbrella. Without hesitation, he shouted a spell, cackling when he noticed the new appendages growing out of the Dursley's skin.

"Come on, Harry," he beckoned, heading towards the door. He extended his arm out, smiling when the child ran to take ahold of his hand. Together, they fled the Dursley shack by the sea side and traveled to the Leaky Cauldron.

From that moment onward, Harry's life would never be the same.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Wondrous sites surrounded them, each one paling in comparison to the next. In the wizarding world, there was so much to be seen! Hagrid had taken Harry to Gringotts to get his money, and they went shopping for Harry's school supplies. Throughout all of this, Hagrid told Harry about his lineage.

"Yer a wizard, Harry," he breathed. "You can do things children your age could only dream of, can conjure things that would make even the oldest of muggles tremble within their boots."

He stopped, his eyes widening.

"Almost forgot," Hagrid mused, reaching into his pocket. He rummaged around for a while, smiling when his hand closed in on his desired object. He pulled out a cake wrapped in aluminum foil, a triumphant grin on his face. "Happy birthday!"

Harry's grin was even more radiant than the sun.

They continued down the road until they found a bustling shop near the corner of the Alley: Magical Menagerie, it read in bold letters. Hagrid pulled him in.

"I wager yer going to need a pet," he explained when Harry shot him a curious look. "Pick anyone you like."

He pushed the child forward gently, urging him to go near the cages of animals. Harry shot him a hesitant look, but eventually sighed when he saw how serious Hagrid was about this. He moved towards the shelves and perused their contents, smiling when he saw that they had snakes. His mind flashed back to the memory of his cousin's birthday, when he had let the boa constrictor out of its cage. Despite the happy memories, he forced himself to keep going, something in his gut telling him to continue to move forward.

That's when he saw it.

A flash of black caught his attention, and Harry paused. He walked towards the direction it came from, startled when he saw a single raven staring at him expectantly. Its eyes, a dark black, shone with intelligence, and Harry couldn't help but admire its ethereal beauty. He moved towards the raven and cautiously moved to caress its feathers. The bird watched him with keen interest; however, it did not move. Rather, it seemed to bask in his touches.

"Who would have thought?" someone wondered aloud. "The savior of the wizarding world likes Mania?"

"Mania?" Harry echoed, turning to stare at the newcomer inquisitively. "Is that her name?"

"Yes," the person said, smiling. "Pardon my manners. My name is Violetta Lestrange. I am the owner of this establishment."

"My name is Harry," the child said nervously. "Harry Potter."

"So it appears," Violetta said, smiling surreptitiously. She motioned towards the bird, a feral smile on her face. "If you like her, you can have her. Free of charge."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked hesitantly. Despite his words, a gleam of happiness shone from inside his eyes. The woman nodded, and Harry thanked her. He soon left, Mania in tow.

Unknown to him, Violetta watched him with malicious eyes.

"Mission complete," she giggled to herself. Walking towards the door of the Menagerie, she removed the ponytail holder from her blonde hair, allowing the long locks to gently cascade down her shoulders. Quickly, she left the building and apparated back to her Master's domain, smiling when she saw the eerily familiar raven perched on the Dark Lord's shoulder.

"You've done well," he mused.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, bowing. "It has been a pleasure."

She turned to the Dark Lord's raven, Mantus, and gave the creature a bow of its own.

"Your consort has been given to the child," she told him. The raven bowed its head sharply, a nod in its own right. Taking that as a dismissal, Violetta headed back to her home, her mind focused on the events that had just transpired. It seemed things were bound to get more interesting around here.

* * *

 **AN: In Roman Mythology, Mania is the Goddess of the Underworld; whereas, Mantus is the God of the Underworld. As Harry has Mania and Voldemort has Mantus, it suggests that a connection unknown to the reader has been established. How are these two parallel events going to affect the future? You decide.**


	230. Drabble 230: BlaisePansy

**A Real Man**

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

When love courses through one's veins, each maddening thump of the heart forcing it to reach further and further inside of them, does one attempt to stop it? When this love is drenched in blood and tainted by sin, does one simply give in to the illogical demands of their heart? When the source of one's love seeks to manipulate them, does one dare fight against it?

For the longest, I have harbored a deep-seated passion for the Malfoy Heir. When we met all those years ago, I thought he was a self-entitled brat; however, over the years, I have begun to see the real him. He is sweet and charming, lovely and enticing, intelligent and fair. In short, he is everything I have ever wanted in a man. We spent years getting to know one another, the days becoming eventful in the wake of his radiant smile.

Then, things changed.

When we came to Hogwarts, Draco became a different person. His sweet nature suddenly turned sour; his charming and lovely persona slowly grew bitter with each passing day; his intelligence became clouded by paranoia, and he steadily lost all sense of equality that once resided within him.

Nevertheless, I stood by him. I told myself: if I couldn't love him at his worst, I didn't deserve him at his best. I clung to that belief, hoping and praying that one day, he would return to his former self.

He never did, and this is where our story truly begins.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Why do you hate Potter so much?" I ask, stretching on the couch. Draco turns towards me, his eyes alight with a deadly gleam. He takes several steps forward, only stopping when he's inches away from me.

"Are you stupid?" he asks me blatantly, his eyes boring into my own. He shakes his head at me disapprovingly, his attitude that of an exasperated parent, and I want to yell. I don't.

"I'm not," I say instead, voice calm. "I merely want to know why you repeatedly endanger yourself for someone so beneath you."

"Potter isn't like you," Draco hisses, rolling his eyes. "He is beneath me, yes, but he does not know it. He needs to be reminded of his place."

 _'I'm not beneath you,'_ I wish to say. Again, I don't. This is a phase; one that he will hopefully overcome soon.

"He can be reminded of his place," I say. "After you become a Death Eater."

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" Draco asks for the hundredth time, a sigh passing from his lips. "The second I become one, the Dark Lord would have already taken Potter as a pet. I would gain no joy from him knowing of my station. I would be able to do _nothing_."

"So, you wish to have him fear you prior to the Dark Lord?" I ask, one eyebrow raised. If I didn't know any better, Draco sounded like he had a crush on Potter. That couldn't possibly be true… right? "Are you not fearful of incurring the Dark Lord's wrath?"

"The Dark Lord will not view it as treachery," Draco says confidently. "Surely, he wants someone to tame Potter before the boy is passed over to him, yes? That way, he would not have to worry about training him."

"You of all people know the joys of breaking in one of your new toys," I remark under my breath, mind flashing back to the moment when I first realized how monstrous Draco really was. Almost instantaneously, I chastise myself for thinking such a thing.

"What was that?" he asks me, eyes narrowed. I shake my head and hurriedly stand from the couch.

"Nothing," I offer over my shoulder, already heading over to the door of his study. "I'll see you later."

I don't wait to hear a dismissal. As soon as the door closes, I sprint down the hall, mind focused on getting to the floo room. More than anything, I need to get myself together. If I don't, I will lose myself to the hate filled love boiling within me.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Why do you put up with him?" Blaise asks, walking into the Common Room. I look at him and sigh.

"You've asked me twenty times," I remark, "and each time, I tell you the same thing."

"You can't possibly be in love with him," he continues to deny, shaking his head. "He's nothing."

"He used to be everything," I say in defense. Blaise rolls his eyes.

"Exactly. He _used_ to be everything. Now, he is a sorry excuse for a man."

"Then, what are you?" I question haughtily, peering into his intense brown eyes. "You are talking about him behind his back."

"I'm not saying anything I wouldn't say to his face," Blaise argues. He takes a step forward, and I take a step back reflexively.

"You need a real man," he says softly, taking several more steps forward. I take some steps back, startled when I feel the wall press against my back. He leans into me, effectively trapping me. A thrill of excitement rushes through my veins, but I try to push it down.

"Really?" I remark, looking him up and down with faux disdain. " _You_ are a real man?"

He smiles at me, arrogance practically seeping out from his pores. Leaning down until his lips graze against my ears, he whispers, "I can do things to you that another man couldn't even dream of."

Immediately, a bright blush paints my cheeks, but I refuse to let him win.

"They can't dream of it because it's so poor," I refute. He smiles at the challenge, his eyes alight with excitement. He pulls back slightly to meet my eyes and says, "You can be the judge of that."

His lips crash against my own, their warmth encasing me in a ball of Blaise. It feels so nice, so pleasant, and I can't help but kiss back hungrily, needy. Time passes by slowly, the movements of our lips the only thing that tethers me to the Earth. Then, he's pulling back, his eyes fluttering open to reveal dilated, brown orbs.

"I'm going to take that as your agreement, love," he whispers. He turns to leave, offering me one more piece of wisdom. "What you need is a real man, and I can be that for you."

Then he's gone, leaving me with a myriad of conflicting emotions.

* * *

~~o-O-o~~

* * *

"Date me," Draco says commandingly. Immediately, my mind screeches to a halt. I look at him, considering his cocky smile and arrogant eyes, and I lament the dreams that shatter steadily around me. Oh, how long I have dreamed for this day only to have it ruined by his own pompousness.

"No," I say with a shake of my head. He looks at me, stricken, and I smile inwardly.

"Why not?" he asks petulantly. I roll my eyes.

"You're not asking me because you really want to date me, are you?" I question. He opens his mouth, as if to respond, but I continue. "I have loved you for years. I've waited and waited, hoping and praying that _my_ Draco would come back to me, that he would want to spend his life with me out of love instead of need. You seek to manipulate me, and I refuse!"

He opens his mouth, as if to respond, but I'm already walking away. Blaise is right. I don't need him.

I need a real man, and I know where to find one.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Hogwarts Fun Fair - Treasure Map - Turn 1: Right - Blaise/Pansy.**


	231. Drabble 231: TomHarry

**Title: Within the Maze**

 **Pairing: Tom Marvolo Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warning: Kidnapping, sexual situations, intentionally distorted reality.**

 **Summary: With his lover trapped inside of a fabricated realm, Tom Riddle will do anything to save him.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Love scorches my insides, each lick of the wild flame causing me to get that much closer to insanity. My beloved stands before me, oblivious to the strong winds of passion that hold me captive. Their voice, reminiscent of a Siren's song, rings pleasantly in my ears, a comforting lullaby. Their eyes tether me to the Earth, the crimson color giving way to rising sunsets and beautiful dusks. They mesmerize me, their very being beckoning me forward.

I don't go. Sadly, they don't mourn the loss.

They don't know of the adoration I house for them. They see me as a friend, nothing more. Even so, I continue to watch them from afar, a fierce longing to be held by them inside of me. I love them more than life itself, yet they don't know. This desire for recognition, this _need_ to be considered a romantic interest by them, has led me to my downfall.

Love… such a wonderful yet horrible concept.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

I watch from the sidelines, my expression one of delirious envy. Tom pulls Draco flush against him, their crotches rubbing together sensually. I pinch my thigh, hoping against all odds that I won't lose myself to the anger building inside me.

"You want me," Tom whispers headily. His lips hover inches above the blonde's own, their breaths mingling together. Their pose is one of intimacy, and I want to interrupt them. I want to pull Draco back and press myself against my beloved; I want to lean up and kiss those delectable lips, relishing in the undoubtedly delicious taste to be found there; I want to love and be loved in return.

Alas, that will never happen.

"I do," Draco says softly, his breath hitching when a roaming hand gently grazes his nipple. "Oh, how I want you…"

I have had enough. I turn around and go back to my house, oblivious to the man who trails behind me, his crimson eyes wide with fright.

"Don't go!" he yells. His normally calm poise is gone, hysteria forcing him to shed all semblance of dignity. "Harry, wake up!"

I continue walking, his words falling on deaf ears.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _His hands gently caress my body, a promise of what is to come. Tom breathes heavily against my neck, each exhale sending a pleasurable tingle down my spine. Under his demanding tongue, I tilt my head to the side and whimper softly, needing him to mark me lest I perish away in blissful flames._

" _Look at me, Harry," he rasps, his soothing drawl seeming to echo throughout my body. I open my eyes slowly, their depths widening upon peering into delirious crimson orbs, panic clear within them._

" _Run!" Tom mouths, his lips moving silently. He looks pained, the crinkling of his eyebrows becoming more apparent, and I can feel a sense of hysteria churn itself in my stomach. "Leave before he comes back!" For extra measure, he pushes me roughly, urging me to leave. I do so hastily, my mind still focused on the sheer terror within his eyes. "When you feel the need to stop running, look out of the windows!" he yells after me._

 _I run quickly through the hallways, jumping when I hear a vicious growl come from the room behind me. My feet move harshly against the cement floor, my breaths labored as I run desperately through the corridors. I keep running; however, my sense of self is beginning to dwindle. I wonder, why am I running? Why am I so alarmed? It would be so nice to take a rest… Tom's words echo through my head, and I turn to look out of the windows. What I find will haunt me forever._

 _The world is distorted, various shapes encased by a bright, violet light seeming to surround the compound. Throughout it all, one thing is clear: someone stands amidst the chaos, their eyes focused on me. They walk in a steady pace, malicious intent flowing off their form in waves. I run with renewed vigor, the sense of terror within me heightening to a point of epic proportions. Behind me, I hear footsteps. I turn around only to see Tom, his eyes wide with mania and despair. He's mouthing, "Run, run, run, run!" and I can't help the tears that burn inside of my eyes. How did this happen? What is going on?_

 _Before I can question anything else, Tom lunges towards me and the world goes dark._

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Distantly, a conversation takes place. If I pay close attention, I can just make out the words.

"You can't touch him," Tom states, glaring at our captor. Dumbledore smiles at him condescendingly, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I already have," he gloats. "With every passing moment, he falls prey to his own despair."

"He knows of my love for him," Tom retorts. "Your fabricated tryst with the Malfoy heir won't change that."

"No, I suppose it won't..." Dumbledore muses. After a moment, he grins. "To remedy that, perhaps I'll have him forget about you completely?"

"You can't erase me from his mind," Tom says confidently, rolling his eyes. "My lips have seared my name into his skin."

"Alas, with time, all scars can be healed..."

Time seems to slow down further, their voices growing more distant. I fight to hear more, to hear Tom's wonderful voice, but it steadily grows quieter. Soon, I'm encased in an all-consuming darkness. I try to cling onto his image, inwardly begging that I won't forget him.

Within hours, I only have a faint recollection of glowing scarlet eyes. By the next day, Tom Marvolo Riddle no longer exists in my mind.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Sink That Ship Competition - Tom x Harry, Violet.**

 **Word Count - 978**


	232. Drabble 232: Tom x Harry (1)

**Title: Pray You Catch Me**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warning: Sexual content, alternate universe.**

 **Summary: Harry suspects Tom is cheating on him.**

 **AN: This is based off of the song "Pray You Catch Me" by Beyonce.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

His body arches upwards, the pleasure simply too much for him to take.

"Tom," Harry breathes, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He gyrates downwards, whimpering when his husband hits him right _there_. "Yes, Tom…"

He forces himself to open his eyes, to share this wonderful moment with his husband, but is shocked when he finds disinterested silver eyes peering back at him.

"Baby?" he questions, voice cracking in pleasure. He lifts his hand to his beloved's cheek, surprised when Tom flinches and pulls out of him.

"I'm sorry," Tom offers, turning to leave. He pauses at the door, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry."

Harry gapes at the closing door, his cock rapidly softening. Surely, Tom didn't just leave him…?

He did.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Harry aches for the touch of his lover. He yearns to feel Tom's calloused hands scraping down his chest, loving and sensual in their one minded pursuit. He yearns to feel his husband's stubble rest gently against his smooth face, their lips locked in a fierce battle of wonderment and passion.

He waits for days. He keeps his desire in check, refusing to pressure his lover into something he obviously doesn't want to do. Days turn into weeks; weeks turn into months. Harry feels like he's _dying_.

Tom never notices.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"No," Hermione instantly denies, her eyebrows narrowing. "Tom wouldn't do that."

"I thought the same," Harry admits sullenly, slumping in his chair. "I want to believe that Tom is the type of man who will break up with you once he loses interest."

"He hasn't lost interest, though," Hermione tries to tell him. "Tom loves you; I've seen the looks he gives you!"

"I hope so, Hermione," Harry sighs wistfully. "I hope this is all a bad dream."

He soon leaves, parting with a hug. Inwardly, he prays that Hermione is right, that Tom hasn't cheated on him. The doubts don't leave.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **The Album Drabble Challenge - Lemonade by Beyonce - Track 1: Pray You Catch Me (Duration - 3:16)**

 **Word Count: 319.**


	233. Drabble 233: Tom x Harry (2)

**Title: Hold Up**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warning: Alternate Universe**

 **Summary: Harry wants to show Tom that he is the only one for him.**

 **AN: This is based off of Beyonce's song, "Hold Up."**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

After gently depositing a sizable piece of chicken onto the bed of pasta, Harry smiles to himself. He runs to go look in the mirror one last time, flashing a quirky grin when he realizes that he looks rather fetching. He takes a moment to steel himself, despising the little butterflies that run rampant in his stomach.

"You've got this," he whispers to himself, nodding his head. "Tom thought you were adorable once; surely, he'll think you're adorable now."

He opens his mouth, as if to continue, but stops abruptly when he hears distant footfalls. Dashing towards the table, he picks up a red rose and runs to the door, a nervous smile on his face. He waits anxiously, his heart beating madly in his chest, and forces himself to smile confidently. The person comes to a stop outside his door, and he hears the faint jingling of keys. Soon, the knob turns and Tom's shocked visage meets his eyes.

"Harry?" Tom questions softly, his eyes narrowed in confusion. He enters the house, pausing when Harry thrusts the rose into his face.

"I love you," Harry starts, a tender grin lighting up his face. "You've made me really happy over the years, and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you."

"…Thanks," Tom says after a moment, a small smile twitching the corners of his lips. He moves to hug Harry, his arms a welcome gift after so long without.

"And, if you don't mind, I prepared your favorite meal?" Harry says, the statement coming out as a statement. Tom's eyes soften further, as if that were even possible, and he leans in to press a kiss onto Harry's temple.

"Thank you, love," he mumbles. He flashes Harry a smile and heads towards the direction of the bathroom. "Give me a second to wash up?"

When he leaves, Harry pumps his fist in the air, a bright smile overtaking his face.

"Score!" Harry silently mouths, overcome with happiness. Surely, Tom will realize Harry is the only one for him.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **The Album Challenge - Lemonade by Beyonce - Track 2: Hold Up (3:41)**

 **Word Count: 348**


	234. Drabble 234: Tom x Harry

**Title: Nightshade**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _When his arms are around me, his scent invading my nose, I can't help but crave more. When he whispers sweet nothings in my ears, his fingers gently combing through my hair, I can't help but want it to last forever. In those moments, I am grounded to reality. He pushes me into an everlasting tranquility. My senses are dulled to the point that I can't tell where he begins and I end. He becomes my one and only hope, my light in a world filled with darkness._

 _Then, I wake up._

 _The darkness comes back stronger than ever. I feel broken, my heart left in shambles. I reach out for him, desperate to find a shred of silver in such a dark place, yet he is nowhere to be found. A sense of anguish feels me, the loss so heavy and sorrow inducing that I want to scream._

 _In those moments, blood stains my vision. Corpses litter the ground, each one more mangled than the last, and I pray that he will be returned to me. There is too much death here, is too much destruction. My heart feels heavy, the terrible stench of death causing it to swell up with laden heartbreak._

 _I am trapped here, nothing to help me. I am falling, the sound of my descent dulled by the billowing winds surrounding me. My beloved can't save me from this horrid fate. I wonder, am I destined to fall for eternity? Then, amidst the horror of my situation, a voice calls out, "Harry!"_

 _A silver light appears from a sea of darkness, and I race to grab ahold of it. It pulls me upwards, bringing me to a world that is full of happiness and sunshine. My beloved stands in the middle, his crimson eyes gleaming contently. I wonder, is this my heaven?_

 _"_ _Welcome, my dear," Tom says softly. He opens his arms welcomingly, and I don't hesitate to run to him. He catches me and spins me around, the behavior seeming uncharacteristic to me. Nevertheless, I pay it no mind. I feel as if I have recovered something important to me, as if I were reunited with someone I had thought lost long ago. The sensation is confusing, yet I pay it no heed._

 _"_ _Where are we?" I ask him, pulling back from his chest. I look around, taking in the meadow surrounding us. Surely, this wasn't here before?_

 _"_ _My haven," Tom replies, smiling. He takes my hand within his own and pulls me further into the meadow. He sits down in the center and pulls me onto his lap, his arms wrapping around me safely._

 _"_ _What kind of flower is this?" I ask him, gesturing towards the single purple flower in front of me. Tom shakes his head, a serene smile painted on his face._

 _"_ _That's a nightshade," he tells me._

 _"_ _What does it symbolize?" I ask curiously, reaching out to touch it. He abruptly pulls my hand back, his serene smile morphing into a malicious grin._

 _"_ _Poison," he breathes. "It represents poison, Harry."_

 _At once, all the flowers in the vicinity change color. The beautiful roses and lilies that lined the meadow turned into a deep purple, their genes morphing into that of the nightshade. They sprang up everywhere, only serving to heighten the abrupt sense of terror that invades me. The skies turn into a dark and ominous black, their depths foreboding, and I suddenly want to get up. I try to rise from Tom's lap, to leave, but his lax arms suddenly become bruising._

 _"_ _You can't leave, Harry," he whispers into my ear. "For us to be one, you have to become twisted like me."_

 _I open my mouth, prepared to yell, but it's too late. His hand reaches up to my throat, suffocating me, and I try to fight back. The plants grow taller and taller, their depths encompassing, and they pounce as one. I'm being smothered in every sense of the word, and I can feel my life force slowly drain out of me._

 _Before everything goes dark, the last thing I see are gentle, crimson eyes._

 _"_ _Everything's going to be okay, beloved," Tom whispers, the words following me into the darkness. "Even death can't separate us."_

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" Ginny asks, concerned. She tenderly reaches out to brush the hair out of his face, frowning when his skin seems to darken. "He's turning gray!"

"He'll be fine," Hermione tells her; however, the trembling of her voice says otherwise. "Harry's strong; he'll make it out of this alright."

"You saw him," Ron cuts in, shaking his head. "When he defeated Voldemort, Harry fell to the ground, as well. That shouldn't have happened. Something's going on."

"What do you propose we do?" Hermione remarks, irritated. "The only thing we _can_ do is watch over him until he wakes up!"

"What if he doesn't wake up?" Ginny asks quietly, her voice ringing hauntingly in the room. Everyone turns to look at her, their eyes wide. "Voldemort had to have done something in his final moments, and I'm pretty sure it was vile."

"He has to wake up," Hermione finally says. "We need him here."

"He's not going to wake up," a new voice says from the door. Everyone turns to stare at Neville in shock, not expecting him to say such a thing. Hermione opens her mouth, but he continues.

"In a twisted way, he loved Tom," he goes on to say. "He's lived with that man in his head for a decade. They've had conversations in his loneliest moments. I'd wager that the man was what kept him sane. The only reason he agreed to kill Voldemort was because he saw how much evil the man had done."

"That has nothing to do with whether he'll wake up," Hermione interrupts, eyes narrowed.

"Harry's dying," Neville says boldly. "When you're on the precipice of dying, you see the things you want the most. Harry is undoubtedly seeing Tom."

"Harry would fight it, though," Ron tries to say. Neville shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter whether Harry would fight. My Gran told me that whatever you see when you're on the verge of death would do its best to keep you there. Tom isn't stupid. He'd easily be able to convince Harry to let his guard down."

His words ring through the air like a sharp bullet, their truth stunning everyone into silence. Ginny looks down at her beloved and sighs.

"Why couldn't you have fallen for me?" she asks quietly. "I wouldn't have hurt you."

No one says anything to the despairing girl. Instead, they all come a little bit closer to Harry, intent on providing whatever comfort they could. Whereas they were confident before, doubt was beginning to set in. Perhaps, they wouldn't get their friend back.

Only time would tell.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Sink That Ship Competition - Round 2 - Tom x Harry, Silver.**

 **Word Count: 1156**


	235. Drabble 235: RonHermione

**Title: By Your Side**

 **Pairing: Ron x Hermione**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Attempted suicide, self-harm.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

For the longest, I've have tried to ignore the whispers around me. I would pretend that my friends weren't going behind my back, exchanging hate-filled words about me. I would pretend that the sneers sent my way when my back was turned were mere figments of my imagination. To me, they did not exist. After all, they couldn't hurt me if they didn't exist. Oh, how wrong I was.

With every passing day, the whispers got louder. My peers grew bolder, their tongues almost serpent like as they slithered with malicious intentions, always moving. The halls of Hogwarts became my worst fear. I no longer had a place to call home in the Wizarding World. I was alone, and I never knew how heart wrenching that would be. My days grew long and listless, their depths filled with nothing but sadness and longing. I wanted to make a friend, wanted to know that I wasn't alone, but I couldn't. The rumors continued to swirl around, the new students picking up on them. With every passing day, the rumors would gain more and more followers. Soon enough, there was no one willing to be there for me. Perhaps, that's when it started.

From that day onward, I couldn't stand to look in the mirror. All I would see is my ugly face, marred by the cruelties of others. I was no longer beautiful like I had been. Rather, I was hideous; I was one of the creatures parents told children of to get them to sleep. My identity was no longer my own. Someone had robbed it from me, leaving me in an abyss of cold, cold despair.

Now, as I rest in the bathtub, a razor in my hand, my mind conjures up these wretched thoughts. I don't pay attention to the knife I'm fiddling with. Instead, I merely enjoy the reassuring tether it provides to reality. For once in my life, I have control over myself. If I want to, I can end it. No one can take this from me. Even my parents. Here, in this abandoned bathroom, I am free to be myself.

A cut is made. Blood hits the ground, a haunting splatter echoing throughout the room. Relief fills me, the feeling so powerful I can feel my blood sing in my veins. I make another cut, relishing in the feeling of bliss that rushes through me. I keep making cut, unmindful of my labored breathing, of my dizziness.

The cuts continue to reign. I continue to grow dizzy.

My eyes slowly slide shut, the euphoria acting as a drug.

The door opens, someone screams...

I'm pulled into a veil of darkness.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

When I come to, a blinding white light sears my eyes. I scream, my arms automatically reaching up to shield me, but a sharp pain makes me stop. I look down at the IV attached to my arm, panic rushing through my veins when I see that it is connected to my clearly scarred arm. I scramble upwards, attempting to pull the sleeve of the hospital gown down, but it refuses to move.

My heart monitor goes off, showcasing the panic that thunders through me, and the doctors rush in. They push me down onto the hospital bed, the intensity of their attention causing me to panic further. What if they see it; these abominations marring my arms? I'm already ugly; this would just make me even worse.

I'm about to scream, to yell, "get the fuck off me!", but someone interrupts me.

"Hermione!"

I turn to the door, surprised to see Ron there, panting. He looks at me with tears in his eyes, their depths pleading. He runs up to the bed and takes my face in his heads.

"Calm down," he orders softly, voice commanding. "Please, calm down before you hurt yourself."

His eyes are so blue, so full of emotion, and I can't help but give in to his wishes. My heart beat slows unwillingly, and I smile at him tiredly. He keeps holding my face, his body leaning in to embrace me, and the turbulence inside of me finally begins to calm. I feel loved, cared for, and I can't help but cry.

"I'm sorry," I croak. "I'm so, so sorry."

Ron whispers sweet nothings in my ears, not answering me for a while. Finally, when he deems me calm enough, he pulls back and forces me to look straight in his eyes.

"You've done nothing wrong," he whispers. "I should have seen what they were doing to you, should have stopped it-"

I interrupt him, my lips crashing against his own.

"It wasn't your fault," I tell him, hoping he'd believe me. "I'm just glad you're here now. I wouldn't be able to survive this without you."

Tears burn in his beautiful eyes and he hugs me, somehow managing to make all my demons go away. For those few, peaceful moments, I am happy.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Murder Mystery Party - Remus Lupin: Write about someone comforting the victim of a murder.**

 **Word Count: 829**


	236. Drabble 236: RonHermione

**Title: I'm Sorry, Beloved**

 **Main Pairing: Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger**

 **Side Pairings: Cormac McLaggen x Hermione Granger, Severus Snape x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: References sexual assault and a pregnancy.**

 **AN: Submission by Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. My task was to write about a truth being hidden. Written for Quidditch League.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Empty, brown eyes stare ahead, a lone, crystalline tear falling down porcelain cheeks.

"I'm sorry," a voice begins. Her eyes flicker towards the speaker, no life coming to their depths.

"You're not," she finally speaks, voice hoarse from screaming. "You did what you wanted to, and you wouldn't change that for anything."

"...You're right," the other concedes. They take a step forward, wincing when Hermione flinches involuntarily. Nonetheless, they reach out to caress her cheek, the gentle motion a direct contradiction of their earlier violent movements. "One day, you'll understand why I did this."

"Is that what you tell all your victims?" Hermione taunts, a spark of bitterness finally shining through. She glares at him, her eyes hard, menacing. "I had a life, a good one, too, but you don't care about that, do you?"

"You belong with me," they tell her. A hint of desperation laces their tone, and they reach down to shake her, their eyes clouded with something eerily similar to righteous justification. "I had to do this; I had to!"

"Just leave me alone," Hermione says after a moment, inexplicably tired. She slumps down against the rough wall behind her, closing her eyes in pressing defeat. "You've taken what you wanted. Just… leave me alone."

"I'm sorry," they offer. Hermione opens her eyes, anger and hatred shining through.

"Sorry doesn't mean shit," she says, the obscenity rolling off her tongue with disturbing ease. In the poor lighting, she thinks she sees a tear fall from their eyes.

"I'm sorry," they try again, turning their back to her. They can't take anymore, can't take the obvious hatred that she feels for them. "I'm so sorry…"

They run off, leaving her all alone. Gently, Hermione cups her stomach, her eyes filled with tears. Standing from her spot against the wall, she winces when pain rushes through her body. Determined to get to Harry's house, she pushes through it, limping the whole time. She can't let this happen, can't ruin Ron's chances of having a family of his own.

She forces herself to walk, her hands shaking by her side. More tears fill her eyes, her stomach tingling in faint pain.

Harry's house; she has to get to Harry's house.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry greets, opening the door. He moves to hug his friend, pausing when she lets out a groan of pain. Taking a closer look at her, he's shocked when he finds that she's badly bruised and naked.

"Severus!" he bellows, pulling her inside. Harry places her delicately on the couch and runs to go get an ice pack from the fridge. He hears his husband clammer down the stairs, undoubtedly confused as to why Harry sounded so panicked, and hears the sharp inhalation of breath. Quickly, he gathers the ice pack.

"Go upstairs and get my case of potions," Severus directs when Harry returns. The green-eyed man doesn't hesitate to do as told, his body practically a blur as he flies up the stairs and into his husband's laboratory.

"Ms. Granger," Severus begins, turning to look at his former student. "Care to tell me what happened?"

"I was on my way home from work, like any other day," Hermione starts, eyes going glossy at the memory. "I stayed late to finish up some paperwork; I was supposed to be the last one in the office. Apparently, I wasn't. He struck me from the back of my head, knowing it could be traced back to him if he used his wand. I reached for mine, intent on getting away from him, but I was too late. Physically, he was too much for me. He wrestled me to the ground and took my wand, apparating us to an alleyway in muggle London…"

"What did he do to you?" Severus asks after a moment. Hermione looks at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She leans forward, only pausing when her lips are mere inches away from his ear.

"He raped me," she whispers. The words ring in the startling silence, prompting Severus to take a sharp inhale. He pulls back to look at his student, his heart breaking when he sees the deadened nature of her soul. Harry chooses that moment to run down the stairs, Severus' potions kit held tightly in his hands. He hands it to his husband without a second thought, and sits down at Hermione's right, his emerald eyes glinting with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asks her, cuddling into her side. He takes the potion Severus gives him and begins to gently rub it into her bruises, watching as they slowly begin to fade.

"No," Hermione tells him honestly, turning to face him.

"'Mione," he whispers, reaching up to caress her cheeks. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, hoping that would erase the haunted look in her eyes. It didn't. "Just let us take care of you."

Throughout the night, Severus and Harry work in tandem to get rid of the bruises that cover her body. Soon, she's bruise free; however, in the middle of the night, Severus dismisses Harry, claiming that he needs to make sure everything is alright with Hermione's genitalia.

At first, Harry is confused; then, it dawns on him. He looks at Hermione, tears welling up in his eyes. He leaves, knowing that he'd break down in front of her if he hadn't. When Severus deems her alright, Harry re-enters the room and cuddles with his best friend.

"Tomorrow," Severus begins, eyes soft, "we will have to do a pregnancy test."

No one says anything. They all knew it was coming. Harry merely hugs Hermione closer, nodding. No one sleeps well that night.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Severus passes Hermione a small, thin tube, his hand lingering for a moment.

"We're right outside, if you need anything," he tells her. Hermione nods, grateful.

"Thank you," she tells him. She turns to Harry, her eyes serious.

"If I'm pregnant," she begins, "we can't tell Ron."

"Hermione," Harry says, startled. "We have to tell him-"

"No," she tells him firmly. "He's always wanted to start his own family; I'm not letting a fucking rapist ruin that for him."

"Ms. Granger," Severus interrupts, "let us refrain from cursing around Harry."

Hermione looks at her friend, remembers the Dursley's, and then nods, repentant.

"Besides, I may not be pregnant," she consoles, entering the bathroom. She turns to look at her friend and winks, hoping to God that he can't sense the fear that twists inside of her. She closes the door, unable to hide it anymore, and heads to the toilet with trembling hands.

When she exits the bathroom, she smiles at both Severus and Harry, tears burning in her eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announces, voice trembling. "I'm going to have a baby…"

Harry rushes to her and pulls her within his arms, rocking the shaking body.

"You're going to have Ron's baby," he consoles. "No one has to know."

That night, Hermione heads home and tells Ron the good news, ignoring the guilt that churns in her stomach.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Fin.**


	237. Drabble 237: ArcturusMelania

**Title: We Shall Overcome**

 **Pairing: Arcturus x Melania**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Arcturus approaches her, a soft smile on his face.

"Don't worry, my love," he tells her, reaching up to caress her cheek. "Soon, this madness will be over, and we'll have a child."

"You've been telling me that for the past two years, Arcturus," Melania says, scowling. "When will it come true?"

"We must be patient," he says, pulling her into a hug. He pulls back and peers into her eyes, begging her to understand. "People have always been suspicious of their superiors; should we have a child during such an uncertain time, they would only be in danger."

"I'm tired of this game," Melania confides, sighing. "The populous have always been extreme when it comes to dealing with purebloods, but to actually accuse us of bribing the Minister?" She shakes her head, frowning when her temples begin to throb with pain.

"We're both tired," Arcturus gently reminds her, rubbing her temples when he notices the grimace on his wife's face, "but we'll get through this."

"I hope so," Melania confesses. She reaches up to press a kiss to his lips, removing his tenderly massaging hands in the process. "I love you, Arc. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"I love you, too, Mel," Arcturus tells her, smiling. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips, this one more passionate in nature. He pulls back with a grin, his arms coming to wrap loosely around his wife. "Soon, we'll give birth to two wonderful children and be a real family."

"Yes," Melania agrees wistfully, a smirk painting her face, "and we'll really give them something to fear."

"Agreed," Arcturus laughs, placing his hands on her stomach. "Orion and Lucretia will certainly be a force to be reckoned with."

* * *

 **Prompt:**

 **Dueling Club Challenge - Duel 1 - Jas v. Krissy - Prompt: Arcturus Black**

 **Word Count: 295**


	238. Drabble 238: TomHarry

**Title: The Kiss of Thy Enemy**

 **Pairing: Tom x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Summary: Harry wakes up in a darkened room. Voldemort's horcrux, Tom, awaits him. Malicious intentions are the only things running through his mind.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Darkness overwhelms him, prompting fear to run rampant within his heart. Harry walks quietly through the abyss before him, his foot cautiously put in front of the other. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, each loud thump echoing throughout the abnormally silent room. Coldness seems to seep into his bones, draining every drop of warmth that ever resided.

How had he gotten here? One moment, he had been at home, trapped in the tender embrace of sleep. In the next, he had found himself lying in the middle of this dark chasm, the only sound being that of his own harsh breathing. He had screamed for what seemed like hours, begging for whoever brought him here to release him soon. His answer came in the form of a bright light, a curious little thing that enticed him to get up and follow it, uncaring of the fact that it could potentially lead to danger.

Now, he continues to walk, the light having long sensed disappeared. A part of Harry wants him to turn around, to go back to the place he had come from just in case someone was on their way to save him; however, another part of him, a larger part, wants him to keep going. It whispers promises of an explanation, whispers a promise of the way out, and he can't help but listen to it.

A sound comes from his left, prompting him to jump about a foot in the air.

"Hello?" Harry asks softly, extending his hand. He reaches into the darkness beside him, frowning when he encounters nothing. "I promise not to attack; please, just tell me who you are!"

Another sound comes, this time to the right of him. He turns around quickly and does the same thing, his frown turning into a snarl when he encounters nothing yet again.

"Stop screwing with me!" he yells. His eyes move wildly from the right to the left, practically daring the other to do it again. They don't disappoint. The noise come from both sides of him, over and over they ring through the abyss, mocking him, _teasing_ him. He's losing his mind!

He clenches his eyes shut and sits on the ground, his body curled in a fetal position. Harry rocks back and forth, unshed tears burning in his eyes. He's so confused, so lost, and he can't help but fear the darkness. It's similar to his cupboard, so small, so dark, so cramped…

"Let me out!" he whispers, his sanity cracking. "Please, let me out!"

He can't remember how long he's been there, can't remember how to breathe. He feels like he's dying, like the whole world is ending around him, and he's been left to rot in this cage.

"Let me out!"

Abruptly, a pair of hands reach out to push him onto the ground, a hard body aiding them. Harry bucks upward wildly, determined to get away from his unknown assailant, but the lights suddenly turn on, blinding him. He closes his eyes against the onslaught, only allowing them to flutter open when they have adjusted. His eyes widen.

Tom Marvolo Riddle is straddling his hips, his silver orbs containing a heated look.

"Don't fight me," the man coos, leaning down to press a tender kiss to Harry's forehead. His grip becomes bruising when Harry attempts to buck upward again. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I will take good care of you, love."

He places a capsule in his mouth and presses his lips to Harry's in a rough kiss. His tongue slyly pressing the thin tube into Harry's mouth. The boy attempts to spit it out, but Tom isn't having it. His hands move to Harry's throat, squeezing, and Harry's throat has no choice but to inhale. He swallows the capsule, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Tasty," he hears Tom laugh, licking his lips. The sound echoes through the room around them and follows Harry into the darkness.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **100 Word Prompt Competition - Tom x Harry - 1. Tasty**

 **Word Count: 669**


	239. Drabble 239: DracoHarry

**Title: Love - Savior or Destroyer?**

 **Pairing: Draco x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"What a fool I used to be," I whisper, tilting my head upwards, "and now his love is burning me."

Rain falls from the heavens, hitting the ground in harsh torrents. The wind is loud and fierce, knocking over all objects in its path. I watch safely from my position by the window, the weather giving me a sense of companionship. Distantly, I can hear Hermione whispering in the kitchen, undoubtedly telling Ron of her worries. I shake my head in exasperation, long since having grown tired of such behavior from her. At the same time; however, I welcome it. I allow her concern to wash over me, to cover me in a wonderful blanket of warmth. Love has always been a hard feeling for me to come by; Hermione's concern for me is something to be valued.

My mind flashes back to my beloved, images of our happiest moments haunting me. Once upon a time, he had been my world. We started off hating each other, our words vile and destructive, but that hate slowly morphed into an overwhelming passion. Perhaps, it had been necessary for us to hate one another; after all, had we not done so, we wouldn't have felt drawn to one another. He wouldn't have pressed his lips to mine in a bruising kiss, his hands seemingly nowhere but everywhere. He wouldn't have yanked my head back, his lips whispering a heartfelt, "I love you." I wouldn't have melted into his touches, my mouth whispering heated declarations as the passion surged through me, leaving me dizzy. Alas, what's done is done.

Distantly, I can see us laughing together, one of our calmest moments. Normally, my beloved and I would fight, our past behavior unforgotten. We'd yell and scream, spew hateful abuse at one another; however, once night came, all of that would melt away. Our frigid behavior would turn warm, welcoming, and he'd pull me into his embrace. Our love would surge through us, forcing us to forget about any lingering feelings of resentment. I can still feel his body heat, unyielding, against my back. It turned my world into something beautiful, something unexplainable. Even now, my words lack the amount of passion that surged through us, scorching us.

Hermione walks into the room, her observant eyes taking in my form near the windowsill.

"Oh, Harry," she says softly, sympathetically. She wipes moisture from my cheek and smiles at me sadly. "It's going to be okay."

"It won't be," I tell her, voice emotionless. She can't know of the emotions building within me; she can't know of the impact he actually had on me. "I've lost him."

"He'll come back," Hermione tries to persuade me. When I don't react, her smile falters. "You fight all the time, Harry; he'll come back."

"This is different," I explain, turning to look out the window. The hope on her face pains me. It makes me want to believe in her words, makes me want to think that maybe, just maybe, Draco will come back to me. "Our relationship is toxic. We can't get rid of the hatred that hardens our hearts, nor can we escape the passion that melts it."

"Who says love and hate has to be different?" Hermione challenges me, her eyebrows raised. "Who says you can't hate the person you love?"

"It's not healthy, Hermione," I tell her, slowly, patiently. "Our love will turn more violent, more unpredictable. One day, we'll kill each another."

"There is beauty in mutual deaths, Harry," Hermione says. "Your love is reminiscent of a raging inferno. It can't be tamed nor defined by society's standards."

"I'm scared," I finally confess. "This thing we have; it's too strong, too powerful. It frightens me."

"Love is a terrifying force," Hermione reminds me gently. "It gets us when we least expect it; however, we must believe in it."

"Why?" I ask her, slumping. I rip my eyes away from the window and look at her, begging for an answer that will lessen the pain inside of me. "Why must I believe in something that will eventually kill me?"

"Because, Harry," Hermione begins, smiling. She leans in to press a kiss to my forehead, the warmth of her lips reaching my soul. "While love may be the cause of your downfall... It'll also be the cause of your salvation."

She looks over my shoulder, her eyes going wide.

"Look out of the window, Harry," she instructs, smiling brightly. I turn to do so, my eyes widening when I see platinum, blonde hair. I stand up abruptly, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

"I can't," I tell her, panicking. Her smile softens, and she pulls me into a hug.

"You can," she corrects, pulling back. She turns me around and pushes me towards the door tenderly. "Now, go get your soulmate."

Draco and I make eye-contact through the window, and I can see the warmth in his eyes. Unthinkingly, I begin to take several steps forward, the silver of his entrancing eyes ensnaring me. Soon, I'm running towards him, unshed tears burning in my eyes.

"I love you," I tell him, kissing him. His arms wrap around and tightens.

"I love you, too," he whispers fiercely. My tears are mirrored in his eyes, prompting me to laugh.

"We're a mess," I say. He chuckles and kisses me again, smiling.

"Forever and always," he declares, laughing. "I'm never letting you go again."

From that day onwards, Draco and I stay together, regardless of how many fights we have. Hermione is right; love is both my salvation and destroyer.

* * *

 **Prompt:**

 **Hogwarts Fun Fair - Treasure Map: E8 - "What a fool I used to be, and now his love is burning me."**

 **Word Count: 928**


	240. Drabble 240: VoldemortHarry

**Title: Death Has a Name**

 **Pairing: Voldemort x Harry or Tom x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Fate is cruel," Harry says, a crystalline tear slowly falling down his cheek. He turns to Hermione, defeat clear within his stormy gaze.

"It doesn't have to be," Hermione tells him, smiling sadly. She approaches him quickly and pulls him into her embrace, attempting to comfort him. Harry's arms wrap around her, but they lack the usual enthusiasm. "Despairing over this won't change anything."

"That's easy for you to say," Harry remarks bitterly, shaking his head. "You're not the one who has to marry Voldemort."

"You're right," Hermione says, her voice laced with pain. "I may not be marrying the Dark Lord, but I have a friend who is. I care for him, whether he believes it or not."

"I'm sorry," Harry tells her, sighing. He shakes his head, willing the tears to leave. Instead, they fall faster. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright," Hermione tells him. "I know this is stressful, but we really can't do anything about it. You heard Dumbledore; the only way to make this war end peacefully is to ensure a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Insurance," Harry sneers, irritated. "Voldemort wants to use me as leverage. Surely, when he doesn't need me anymore, he'll get rid of me."

"Don't think like that, Harry," Hermione chastises, looking at him sternly. "This situation may be bad, but that's okay. We've faced hundreds of bad situations and made it out alive. This won't be any different."

"I'm scared," Harry whispers, after a moment. He looks at Hermione, pure terror reflecting in his emerald eyes. "What if I fall in love with him?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione says, her eyes watering. Her arms tighten around him, and she trembles within his grasp. Nevertheless, she forces herself to say, "Love is strength. If you love him, you will do everything in your power to help him."

"Even if that means betraying the Light?" Harry asks, mortified by the very thought. Hermione shakes her head.

"No," she whispers. "Even better than that. You'd force him to get his priorities straight."

"He really will be the death of me," Harry remarks, sighing. He pulls back from her embrace and makes his way towards the door, a determined glint in his eyes. "In that case, I will do everything in my power to help him."

"Good," Hermione says, chuckling. "Save him from his own madness."

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **\- Are You Crazy Enough to Do It Challenge - Prompt 564. (Title) Death Has a Name**

 **\- 5 Drabble Collection Challenge - Drabble 1: (word) Cruel**

 **\- Word Count: 393**


	241. Drabble 241: OMC x Delores

**Title:** Thy Love, Poison

 **Pairing:** OMC x Delores Umbridge

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Word Count:** 904 on Google Docx, 909 on Word.

 **Author's Note:** This is a submission by Firediva0, Keeper for the Appleby Arrows. My prompt was to write for the Umbridge family. Please note that I have taken several liberties. For instance, this takes place in the muggle world, before Orford (the father) separated from his wife. If you want a specific date, it takes place in the summer of Delores' fifth year, before she turned evil. This is a possible explanation for her behavior using canonical facts. Furthermore, all of Lycaon's clothing was invented in the 1900's, making it possible for him to wear them.

 **Summary:** Sometimes, people turn out vile and cruel due to past experiences. What if Umbridge's loathing for magical creatures stemmed from a tragic romance?

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

I gaze upon my beloved with fondness, inwardly admiring the handsome visage he displays to the world. Long, blue locks cascade down a broad back, reminiscent of a waterfall. His eyes, a piercing sapphire, stare out into the world with curiosity, unhindered by the tragedies he faced as a child. His skin is a pale, almost translucent, white, and it appears to glow in the moonlight. He wears a tight, black t-shirt; fitted, skinny jeans; and obsidian sneakers. The longer I gaze at him, the softer my expression becomes.

"Lycaon," I say, careful to keep my voice low. "What are you doing here?"

He grins and climbs through the window, pausing whenever the noise is a little too loud.

"I've missed you," he says, unapologetically. He doesn't hesitate to pull me within his arms, laughing when my cheeks darken. "It pains me to stay away."

"What if my father catches you?" I ask, forcing myself to refrain from melting into his hold. What he did is dangerous, foolish, even. If he had been caught, this would quickly be brought to an end.

"He won't," he assures me, winking. "Werewolf, remember?"

"Werewolf or not," I say, sighing, "my father is a seasoned wizard. He would have killed you first and asked questions later."

"Don't worry," Lycaon says, after a moment. His arms tighten around me, his grin faltering in the wake of my statement. He peers at me with determined eyes, his love for me reflected in their depths. "I won't leave you, even if your father wants me to."

"I want to believe your words," I tell him softly, "but I know my father all too well. He's not a nice man, far from it. Should he see you, regardless of my feelings, he will slaughter you."

Lycaon doesn't say anything, after that. He simply pulls me closer and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. We stand there, the light of the moon beaming down on us, for a while. Finally, when night threatens to give way to day, Lycaon gently tucks me into bed and leaves. Unknown to us, hardened, gray eyes peer into my room, a soft growl escaping.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"What did you do?" I yell, tears burning in my eyes. My father stares at me, unashamed.

"I did what you should have done," he says slowly, commandingly. "I've slain the beast."

I peer down at my beloved's detached head and sob, the tears finally falling. I told him this would happen. I tried to stop him from coming, tried to save him from _himself_ , but it was too late. My father has done the unthinkable. I will never hold Lycaon in my arms again, will never get to kiss that beautiful face, will never get to pledge my love for him, will never get to _see_ him.

Our love is done, over with, and it's killing me on the inside.

"I loved him," I tell my father, glaring. "He was my world!"

"He has deceived you!" my father yells, ruthlessly. He glares back at me, practically daring me to say something against his judgement. Perhaps, it's my love for Lycaon that drives me to surge forward, intent on giving him a piece of my mind. Whatever it is, I tackle him to the floor and punch his chest repeatedly, tears streaming down my face. My chest hurts, and I'm screaming. I can't tell what I'm saying, can't tell if I'm making sense. I simply feel an intense pain, one that seems to scorch me to the very core.

"Delores!" my father yells, hand moving reflexively. It connects with my face, silencing my screams. I pause, the burning sensation in my cheek distracting me from the pain in my heart.

"You… hit me," I say, the words alien on my tongue. My eyes fall to the floor, automatically seeking out my beloved. Lycaon looks so sad there, his body torn to pieces. His head is the only thing that remains relatively intact, a purposeful deed designed to humiliate the slaughtered. My beloved's eyes are open, a gray mist having taken over the beautiful sapphire, and I feel my body sag. Forcing myself to rise, I go to pick up Lycaon's head, being careful not to jostle it too much.

"I've learnt from my mistakes," I say, refusing to look at my father. "I shouldn't have trusted him to come here, not when I have such a horrible father at home."

I head to the door, tears silently falling down my cheeks.

"I will do as you say, Father," I whisper, pausing at the doorway. "I will feel disdain towards magical creatures. I will force myself to hate those who don't have pure blood. I will detest all who get in our way…"

I finally turn to look at him, all warmth lost from my gaze.

"In return, I only ask for one thing," I say. He looks at me, encouraging me to continue. "Allow me to keep the head."

He gasps and opens his mouth, but I don't give him the chance to say anything. I merely turn towards my room, carrying the head of my beloved like one would carry a baby. I close the door to my room softly and slide to the floor, finally allowing myself to break down.

There, in the silence of my room, I make a vow. I will never, _ever_ , fall in love again.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **FIN**


	242. Drabble 242: Tom x Harry

**Title: True Love**

 **Pairing: Tom x Harry**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: High School AU; this takes place in the town of Hogwarts, England; everyone in said town believes in Magic, although they can't access it.**

* * *

The excitement that stirs in your stomach, making you feel dizzy. The rush of fondness that travels through your veins, making you feel high. The easy distraction they manage to provide, something that allows you to feel as if you're walking on clouds, so far away from your problems. It's scary, and lovely, and horrible, but so _good_ that you don't want to stop. Whenever you peer into their eyes, you're entranced. This feeling, this terrifying yet inexplicably amazing feeling, makes me want to scream.

For the longest, I've been in love with Tom Marvolo Riddle. I shouldn't, though. Tom is the embodiment of everything I hate; he's mean, arrogant, and so fucking full of himself. He has no problem flirting with people – both students and teachers alike. He's controlling to boot. I don't know how many times I've seen him ordering his posse around, no regard whatsoever for softening phrases. Tom doesn't say please or thank you. He merely tells you what to do, and you do it. It's literally that simple.

Perhaps, it's that selfish arrogance that attracts me.

"Hadrian," Tom acknowledges, walking towards me. Then again, I may like him because he has the balls to use my full name, knowing full well that I'm extremely likely to get violent. However, with Tom, I never have. It seems natural coming from his lips, as if he is meant to call me that. Merlin, what kind of sappiness has gotten into me?

"What?" I reply, pulling myself from my thoughts. Tom looks at me with calculating gray eyes, undoubtedly trying to peer into my thoughts. I maintain eye contact with him, determined to not show any weakness. His lips twitch upward in a smile.

"Have lunch with me," he says, after a moment. It's a command, not a question. Despite that, I feel myself inclined to say yes; however, I won't. At least, not easily.

"Why would I?" I ask instead, noticing that a small crowd is beginning to form around us. I notice my friends, Ron and Hermione, trying to make their way towards me, so I offer them a small smile.

"Because I said so," Tom says simply, arrogantly. I look at him haughtily, a scowl beginning to light up my features.

"Ask me," I demand, becoming irritated. "I'm not a fucking groupie of yours. If you want me to do anything for you, even if it is as mundane as lunch, you're going to fucking ask."

"Okay, Princess," Tom taunts, eyes gleaming with unrestrained satisfaction. He kneels in front of me, his friends snickering behind him. "Will you honor me with your presence for lunch?"

"I will," I agree, cheeks burning. Tom straightens himself and faces the crowd, a victorious grin on his face.

"The Princess has agreed!" he yells, the cheering of the crowd nearly drowning out his voice. I force myself to walk away from the scene, knowing that Tom will soon follow me. Outwardly, I am the poster boy of anger. My cheeks are flushed, and a vein throbs on the side of my temple. My hands are clenched into fists, as if I'm trying not to lash out; however, I am the opposite on the inside.

 _"Princess…"_

The word rings in my ear, teasing me, _taunting_ me. I flush again, this time out of sheer elation. I love the way the world falls of his tongue, love the way it makes me feel. Tom, the smug bastard, surely knows this. Heading to an abandoned classroom, I wait patiently on top of the teacher's desk. Tom doesn't disappoint me, either. Soon, he appears in the door way, his smug smile being replaced by a calm, gentle grin.

"Princess," he greets, making his way towards me. I spread my legs slightly, allowing him to step between them. He leans in to kiss me passionately, our lips slotting together perfectly. All of the embarrassment, the faux anger, and the haughtiness are pushed away, replaced instead by the loveliness of his lips upon mine. I feel at peace, feel a startling tranquility that entices me to wrap my arms around his neck, to pull him impossibly closer. Tom follows me, only to press another passionate kiss onto my lips. His hands are trailing down my sides, wild in their pursuit for warmth. Finally, after several scorching moments, he finally takes a step back.

"You're dangerous," he breathes into the air around us. "All day, I've wanted to do that."

"What's stopping you?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Surely, you wouldn't mine pressing me into the closest surface and kissing the hell out of me?"

"Merlin, how much I want to do that," Tom pants out, pupil's blown wide. "To see you moan outload, desperate for me to kiss you senseless. To see you lose yourself in front of everyone, pleasure the only thought on your mind…"

"I wouldn't mind doing precisely that," I tell him honestly. "You know I've never cared about what other people think."

"I do, though," Tom sighs, after a moment. "You deserve so much better than that, but I do care. I have a reputation to uphold, one that will guarantee us a comfortable life."

"Comfortable life?" I scoff, pulling back from him. "There is nothing comfortable about pretending I'm not in love with you."

"I know," Tom says placatingly. "I know this is wrong on so many levels, but I want the best for you."

"I already _have_ the best," I point out, pulling him closer. I press a chaste kiss to his lips, begging him to understand. "When I'm with you, I feel weightless. You make me happy."

"But we can have so much better," Tom reasons, returning the kiss. "Can you imagine waking up in a luxurious Manor, much like the Malfoy's, and cuddling in bed?"

"Yes," I begin, "and while that sounds fabulous, I'd much rather be with you."

"You _are_ with me, Harry," Tom says softly. Fed up with this argument, I merely hold him close.

"Because of you, I know what true love feels like," I sigh. "I just don't want you to tarnish that because you're scared of how other's will react."

"I promise not to, Princess," Tom whispers. "Even if I am forced to tell everyone, I will not allow that to impact our relationship."

"Good," I say, relieved. Leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, I part with a soft, "Then, you'll have no trouble if I tell Ron and Hermione? No? Cool!"

Before he can get a word in, I'm off. I run through the hallways, uncaring of the man chasing after me, murderous rage on his face. Laughing freely, I thank Merlin for such a lovely boyfriend. Life is good.

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **July Event – Lipstick Day – Prompt 5: True Love.**

 **Are You Crazy Challenge – Prompt 126: (Character) Tom Riddle**

 **Word Count: 1,123.**


	243. Drabble 243: Draco x Ron

**Title: Disgusting Habits**

 **Pairing: Draco x Ron**

 **Rating: Teen**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Ron's POV**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"You're a slob," Draco remarks, peering at me with clear disgust. I merely smile at him, not really caring that he can see the half-eaten food in my mouth.

"You love me anyways," I tell him, taking another vicious bite of the chicken. Draco rolls his eyes, but chooses not to comment. Instead, he delicately begins to cut into his own meal with clean cutlery, the very picture of classy and graceful. I scoff.

"You don't have to pretend in front of me," I say, finally pausing to wipe my mouth with a napkin. Draco looks at me sharply, indignation clear on his face.

"I don't _pretend_ , Weasley," he shoots back, glaring. I laugh at him and gesture at his plate, an eyebrow raised.

"You're at home," I continue, as if he had never spoken in the first place. "You don't need to eat with a knife and fork."

"This," he stresses, gesturing at himself and the silverware, "is a concept called manners. You should learn it sometime."

"Sure," I agree easily, smirking. "However, I think I'll save that for when I have company."

"I _am_ company," Draco exclaims, shaking his head. "Sure, we may be dating, but this does not change the fact that I'm a person."

"Of course, you're a person," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "However, you're a person who must accept me for all that I am and all that jazz."

"I don't," Draco states, unashamed. "I can, and do, hate several of your flaws. I don't accept you for any of them." For a second, pain erupts in my chest. I look at him, offended, but he continues. "I choose to love them only because they make you who you are."

"If you love them," I begin, confused, "then, you accept them."

"Not at all," Draco denies, pausing to take another bite of his chicken. "I love them, sure, but I will never stop trying to make you break those habits."

"You're a prick," I say, after a moment. I laugh, the pain in my chest all but a fond memory. "I will never break these habits."

"One can only hope," Draco sighs, shaking his head mournfully. Moving to clean my mouth with a napkin, I don't hesitate to get up and make my way over to him. Draco stares at me when I'm mere inches away, his silver eyes wide with disgust.

"Don't you dare," he hisses, attempting to push me away. I smile and press a kiss to his tantalizing lips, chuckling when he lets out a miserable sigh.

"I love you," I whisper, pulling back. "Thank you for loving my flaws, even when you don't accept them."

"I love you, too," Draco says, voice soft. After a moment, he glares at me. "Now, get off me, Weasel!"

Laughing, I make my way back to my chair, contentment stirring in my chest. The simplicity of our lives after the war is breathtaking. Happiness courses through my veins.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **\- Speed Drabble, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Forum, Week 1, Try 1: (Pairing) Draco/Ron, (Word) Slob, (Word) Tantalizing.**

 **\- Are You Crazy Challenge: 121. (Character) Ronald Weasley**

 **\- Word Count: 493**


	244. Drabble 244: AlbusGellert

**Title: The Knight in Obsidian Armor**

 **Pairing: Albus Dumbledore x Gellert Grindelwald**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Word Count: 1,697**

 **AN: Written by Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows, for Round 5 of Quidditch League. I was supposed to write about a character acting chivalrous to another character.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Darkness lurks behind sapphire eyes, obscured by false kindness. Gellert stares into their inky depths, curiosity clear within his gaze.

"Albus Dumbledore," the other introduces, his lips twitching upwards in a smile. He extends his hand, his grin growing wider when Gellert grasps it, giving it a confident shake.

"Gellert Grindelwald," Gellert says, after a moment. He allows his hand to linger for longer than necessary, intrigued by the darkness that seems to ooze from the other. He watches, his eyes taking in every movement Albus makes, unconcerned with how mundane each action seems. Finally, when Albus moves to pull away, he releases the appendage.

"You're Percival's son, yes?" he asks, forcibly pulling his eyes away. He chooses to focus on the long, crimson locks that cascade down the teenager's back, only stopping when it reaches his hips. Briefly, he wonders what it would be like to pull the strands; he wonders whether the faux warmth in Albus' gaze would disappear, erased by the prospect of hot, fiery pain. Then, Albus speaks and the thought is banished.

"Yes," he agrees. "I take it you're aware of what transpired?"

"Of course," Gellert replies, honestly. "I make it a point to know what's going on, even if it doesn't concern me."

"Some would classify that as prying," Albus says, his grin morphing into a smirk. His stance is calm, almost abnormally so, and Gellert finds himself smirking in response.

"I'd classify it as intelligence," he denies, shaking his head. "I'd rather know what's coming than to be caught by surprise."

"A dangerous thought," Albus says, eyes twinkling. "If you know what's coming, how will you ever be pleasantly surprised?"

"You'll find," Gellert begins, his eyebrows rising challengingly, "that I loathe surprises."

"Your life must be terribly boring," Albus says, voice low with faux sadness. The lights in his eyes dim slightly, undoubtedly a masterful ploy designed to throw Gellert off. Gellert merely smiles at the attempt and decides to indulge the other.

"I'm afraid it is," he says, a certain inflection in his voice. He watches as Albus' eyebrows narrow, suspicion beginning to blossom in his eyes. He smirks. "Will you be the person to save me from it?"

For a moment, Albus doesn't say anything. He merely gazes at Gellert, his eyes taking him in. He catalogs every detail, both relevant and irrelevant, determined to understand. Finally, when Gellert is about to say something, he smiles.

"It'd be an honor," he intones, bowing slightly. Gellert laughs at the chivalrous behavior, his eyes rolling on their own accord.

"You don't need to bow," he remarks. He pauses, then, thinking. "Actually, feel free to bow."

"Of course, your Highness," Albus jokes. He places his hand over his heart and maintains eye contact. "Whatever your orders; I shall heed them."

"As you should," Gellert replies, a cocky smirk lighting up his face. "In exchange, I shall give you the right to praise me."

"Oh, kind and merciful Lord," Albus exclaims gallantly, smirking. "You are too good to a mere peasant."

"Any good ruler is," Gellert agrees, snickering. Albus' facade ultimately falls, his serious demeanor giving way to a laughing visage. They sit there for a while, engaging in several more conversations that carry on in a similar manner. Finally, after several hours, Gellert goes home, his mind stuck on the interesting boy he had just met.

From that moment onward, history will forever be changed.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"He's dangerous," Aberforth points out, exasperated. He glares at his brother, his sapphire eyes alight with righteous fury. Albus stares at him calmly, seemingly unbothered.

"He is," he agrees, nonchalantly. "Then again, everyone in this village is."

"There's a rumor going around," Aberforth tells him, shaking his head. "Your little friend - he hurt someone, badly."

"You remember the rumors of our own father, right?" Albus questions, unrepentant. "He tortured those muggles, uncaring that they were children. You defended him ferociously against the rumors given by the villagers, uncaring that all of the evidence seemed to implicate him. Why would you condemn Gellert, when you vouched so fiercely for someone worse than him?"

"It's different," Aberforth says, after a moment. His eyes are wild, his mind undoubtedly searching for something, anything, that will help him prove his point. He flounders, unable to come up with anything.

"You're biased," Albus eventually says, shaking his head. "Someone you love couldn't possibly do anything wrong, right? However, anyone else is fair game."

Aberforth opens his mouth, wanting more than anything to deny him, yet he can't. He sits there, his eyes burning with frustrated tears, and his body vibrates with anger.

"You're just as bad as Percival," Albus taunts, shaking his head. "False justification shrouds your views."

"Don't say his name," Aberforth growls out, the tears finally escaping. "You're not his equal, so don't you dare say his name."

"You're right," Albus says, smirking. "That guy is lower than dirt; he couldn't possibly be my-"

"Brother?" a voice says, interrupting them. Aberforth's head snaps to the side, his eyes widening at the sight of Ariana. He rushes to her side and picks her up, a frown marring his face.

"What are you doing?" he asks her, confused. "You know you're not supposed to be up."

"I heard you guys fighting," Ariana says, glaring. "You can't fight, not when Father's gone."

"I know, honey," Aberforth agrees, nodding. "Sorry." Ariana studies him, for a moment, her pale, blue eyes peering into his darker ones.

"Don't do it again," she warns. At Aberforth's nod, she finally allows him to bring her back to her room.

"Why'd you defend me?" Gellert asks, crawling out from underneath the bed. Curiosity is clear in his gaze, and Albus allows his lips to twitch upwards in a smirk.

"I already told you," he says, nonchalantly. "I'm your Knight."

"In some cultures, it is the Knight who truly rules," Gellert says softly. If Albus hears him, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he moves to stand near the window and peers out into the night, admiring its beauty. While not discussed, the comment is not forgotten.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

It's neither passion nor desire that prompts Gellert to press his lips to Albus'. Rather, it is an innate curiosity that leads to him bestowing a kiss upon his Knight. When Albus kisses him back, it's not hard for him to believe that Albus feels the same burning curiosity.

However, when it becomes routine for them to exchange kisses, Gellert finds it troubling. He loses himself to the sweet gesture, his heart beginning to yearn for the warmth that accompanies it. Desperately, he attempts to fight the scorching desire in his veins, yet he can't. Like a moth to a flame, he finds himself attracted to it. Unknown to him, Albus is well-aware of his descent into normalcy.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

" _I am your Knight."_

The words ring through Gellert's mind, unheeded, and he finds himself uttering the words of the deadliest curse in history.

"Avada Kedavra," he intones. A bright, green light bursts from his wand and launches itself towards Aberforth. However, when Ariana throws herself in front of the spell, desperate to stop the fighting, all goes silent. Everyone watches in horror as the child slumps to the ground, her eyes fluttering closed. Immediately, Aberforth is yelling and screaming, his grief intertwining with the white, hot rage that pulses through him.

"I told you!" he bursts out, glaring at his brother. "I wasn't biased against him; I merely knew the truth!"

"I suppose you are right," Albus says, after a moment. He turns towards Gellert, his eyes seemingly empty. Despite that, Gellert can see the slight twinkle that resides deep within the depths of those hardened, sapphire eyes. "I allowed you into my home and near my family. Is this how you repay me?"

Gellert stares at Albus, the pieces coming together. The other had intentionally approached him all those years ago, undoubtedly looking for a kindred spirit. Albus had plotted and schemed, carefully getting closer and closer to Gellert. The chivalrous behavior of his, the gallant declarations, the sweet kisses that he had bestowed upon him… All of it had been a lie, preparing everything for this very moment. Now, as Ariana's corpse slowly begins to rot in Aberforth's arms, everything becomes clear.

Gellert laughs, the sound reminiscent of a man who's lost it all, but he doesn't care. In a way, he _has_ lost it all.

"You planned this," he chuckles. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Aberforth eyeing him warily, undoubtedly contemplating whether to protect his sister's body from further harm or to pick up his wand and avenge her. However, terror seems to keep him rooted to the spot. "All this time, you pretended to be my friend, my confidant. To what end, I wonder?"

It's a rhetorical question, yet he forges on.

"In some cultures, it is the Knight who truly rules," Gellert repeats, cynically. "This whole time, you played me."

Albus does not deny his claims. He simply stands there, the infuriating light in his eyes growing brighter and brighter with every passing moment.

"Do you know what the sad part is?" Gellert finally asks. It's a real question, and he frowns when he receives no answer. "I knew that, yet I _still_ fell for you."

"Are you done?" Albus asks, after a moment. He peers at Gellert with bright eyes, yet doesn't refute any of Gellert's claims. Instead, he raises his arm and points his wand at his long-time friend, his confidant. "It was fun while it lasted."

"You wouldn't _dare_ -"

"Avada Kedavra," Albus whispers. A bright, green light spirals towards Gellert, and he barely manages to dodge it in time. Without hesitating, he runs from the quaint, little cottage, and he is never seen again in Godric's Hallow.

Albus Dumbledore is hailed a hero, and no one understands why Aberforth refuses to speak to him.

* * *

 **FIN**


	245. Drabble 245: RodolphusBellatrix

**Title: Bitter Vengeance**

 **Pairing: Rodolphus/Bellatrix (Main), Voldemort x Bellatrix (Side), Rodolphus/Narcissa (Side).**

 **Rating: Mature**

 **Warnings: Infidelity, graphic sexual situations.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _Don't think it, don't say it._

 _Don't think it, don't say it._

 _Don't think it, don't say it._

\- The Bye Bye Man

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Hips surging forward, lips opening in a soundless plea for more. Rodolphus pushes himself to go faster, harder, his entire world narrowing down to this small segment. His hands fist the sheets beside Lady Malfoy's head, and he can't help but grunt with the effort of maintaining his position. He's thrusting in and out of her, drawing out the sweetest of moans, yet he can barely keep his thoughts at bay. Besides the ongoing mantra of _more, more, more,_ his mind recalls the sounds of his estranged wife, Bellatrix, moaning into the air.

 _"Master," she says, arching into his touch. "Master, please…"_

 _"Be patient," Voldemort snarls, his hips moving in a hurried rhythm. He surges forward and wrenches out, leaving her breathless at the rapid change of sensations. A look of concentration is settled on his features, undoubtedly caused by his desire to be a generous lover; however, judging by the increasing tension in Bellatrix's limbs, he's failing._

 _"Allow me," she whispers, voice pleading. Voldemort considers her, for a moment. Then, he reluctantly pulls out of her. Gently, he reclines himself on the bed, taking her place. He allows Bellatrix to mount him, a hiss escaping his lips when her warmth suddenly envelops him. Bellatrix greedily swallows his length, moans pouring from her lips as she verbalizes her pleasure. She rises and falls harshly, determined to get the most out of their coupling, and the heady stench of sex permeates the air._

 _Rodolphus remembers standing at the door, his eyes wide, as his wife partook in a feast that he should have seen coming. He remembers a cold, icy sensation crawling through his bloodstream, eventually settling in the area above his heart; he remembers tears pouring from his eyes, unheeded; he remembers stepping away from the door, stumbling; he remembers running away from their chambers, heart heavy with the knowledge that the woman he loved would do such a thing; he remembers going to a room on the far side of the manor, far enough that he could no longer hear the wretched moans; he remembers drinking himself into oblivion. Finally, he remembers placing every painful sensation – both mental and physical – inside of a cage. He had buried them deep inside his heart, to be forgotten for eternity._

However, the thoughts have resurfaced with a vengeance. Narcissa's long, blonde hair slowly morphs into curly, black locks. Her silver eyes mirror her sister's, their depths swirling with loathing. Rodolphus stops abruptly, his eyes widening. From beneath him, Narcissa sighs.

"I knew this would happen," she claims, moving to push him away. "You miss her."

"I don't," Rodolphus says, as if on autopilot. He shakes his head at her, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He desperately attempts to squash them, unwilling to let the pain resurface. "After her betrayal, she lost any claim to me."

"Perhaps," Narcissa says, giving up on her attempts of getting up. She feels him soften inside of her, prompting a grimace to paint her features. "That doesn't mean; however, that you don't miss her claim."

"She promised me," Rodolphus says, a flare of pain rising in his chest, "that she wouldn't sleep with him."

"Did you believe her?" Narcissa asks, merciless. When he seems to slump in on himself, she sighs. "Look, maybe you need to have a conversation with her. Using me for revenge obviously isn't going to help you."

"You weren't a rebound," Rodolphus tries to say. Narcissa laughs.

"I've done a lot of things," she says, smiling, "but I've never lied to myself. You wouldn't have joined me in my chambers had you not wanted revenge. "I'm sorry," Rodolphus says, after a moment. He meets her eyes, sincerity shining within his own, and Narcissa grins at him.

"It's okay," she tells him. "I'm here for the same reason. Had you not hesitated, I probably would have done the same."

"We're a mess," Rodolphus laughs, shaking his head. Narcissa nods, unoffended.

"It seems we both have some evaluating to do," she says. "So, go talk to Bella, and I'll talk to Lucius."

Rodolphus nods his assent and moves to pull out of her, playfully swatting Narcissa's arm when she lets out a grateful sigh.

"You loved it," he accuses, pouting when she laughs.

"Get out of here," she says, chuckling. "Perhaps, I'll tell you how I felt about this later, when we're both happy."

Eyes softening, Rodolphus leans down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Thanks for being so understanding," he says. Narcissa welcomes the affection, for a moment. Then, she pulls away with a faux grimace.

"Get out of here, lover boy," she says. Chuckling, Rodolphus moves to put on his clothes. Soon enough, he's leaving the compound, determination rising within him. He's going to go home and allow the emotions to overwhelm him. He'll scream, cry, and throw things at walls; however, at the end of the day, he'll talk to Bellatrix and see if they can fix this. Because, even if the notion does pain him, he's still in love with her.

 _Don't think it, don't say it._

 _Don't think it, don't say it._

 _Don't think it, don't say it._

He pushes the mantra from his mind and faces the emotions head-on. He can do this. He _will_ do this.

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **\- Assignment 1, Muggle Arts: Write about a character distancing themselves emotionally from something else.**

 **\- Word Count: 906**


	246. Drabble 246: Tom x Harry

**Title: The Art of Compromise**

 **Pairing: Tom Riddle x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Summary: Having invited Ron and Hermione to his home, Harry gives them a tour.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Harry," Hermione says, incredulous. "What is that?"

"Oh, that," Harry begins, smiling. "Tom and I fought for days about whether we should be more historical or playful with our décor. In the end, we came to a compromise."

" _That_ is not a compromise," Hermione refutes, shaking her head. "You completely desecrated history!"

"Hermione," Ron cuts in, chuckling. He moves next to the painting, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Surely, you see the creative genius in this?"

"Yeah," Harry says, nodding. "The darkness of the clouds symbolizes a dark period in American history, and the Native Americans only serve to enhance that."

"I get that," Hermione says, rolling her eyes. "The UFO's, though? Are they _seriously_ necessary?"

"Yes," Ron agrees, smiling. "They're telling us to get our heads out of our arses."

"What Ron _means_ ," Harry cuts in, when Hermione looks like she's about to tear her boyfriend a new one, "is that it reminds society that we're not the only ones in the universe."

"You're _not_ trying to rationalize this," Hermione says, scoffing. When Harry nudges her with a playful grin, she rolls her eyes in fond exasperation. "You're insane."

"Why, thank you," Harry tells her, chuckling. He moves to high five the red-head, a sound of triumph escaping his lips.

"What _are_ you doing?" a voice chimes in. Harry immediately goes to hug the new arrival, stealing a kiss.

"Tom," he greets, smiling. "How was work?"

"Boring," Tom says immediately, moving to press another kiss to his beloved's lips. He pulls away, after a moment, staring at Ron and Hermione with faint amusement. "He showed you the painting, I take it?"

"Yes," Hermione sighs, shaking her head. "How could you let him get away with that monstrosity?"

"Trust me," Tom says, frowning ruefully. "If I didn't love him as much as I did, that painting would be _burned_."

"Did you hear that?" Harry beams, absently punching Tom lightly in the arm. "He _loves_ me."

"Yes, mate, we know that," Ron says, rolling his eyes. He moves to tug on Harry's arm, uncaring of the others. "Now, I want to go see the _hot tub_."

"Oh!" Harry exclaims, grinning. He hugs Tom quickly and bounces out of the room, Ron in tow. Left behind, Hermione looks at Tom.

"We married children, didn't we?" she questions. Tom nods, a faux grimace on his face.

"Yes, I'm afraid we did, Mrs. Granger… I'm afraid we did."

* * *

 **Prompts:**

 **\- Hogwarts Event: Thrift Shop -** **A painting of Native Americans in a long boat, with several UFOs attacking them from above.**

 **\- August: 406**


	247. Drabble 247: LuciusNarcissa

**Title:** The Descent into Darkness

 **Pairing:** Lucius Malfoy x Narcissa Black

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Word Count:** 1, 217

 **Author's Note:** My name is Firediva0, and I'm the Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. I've created a story utilizing the prompt, Mean Girls. To be specific, I used the following prompts: (Scenario) Character transfers schools. / (Quote) "There are two kinds of evil people in this world. Those who do evil stuff, and those who see evil stuff being done and don't try to stop it." / (Quote) "One time, she punched me in the face. It was awesome."

 **Summary:** Having a strong sense of morals, Narcissa doesn't want anything to do with the Dark Arts; however, when her fiancé, Lucius, persuades her to stay by his side, she finally gives in.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"My sister, Narcissa, is coming today," Bellatrix says, grinning. "Aren't you excited?"

"Try irritated," Lucius remarks, shaking his head. "I've heard rumors about her; doesn't she have a strong sense of justice?"

"Yes," Bellatrix says, grimacing, "but we can always fix that."

"How?" Severus pipes up, making their heads snap towards him. "If she's been at Beauxbatons for most of her life, they've undoubtedly influenced her."

"You're right," Bellatrix agrees, nodding. "Although, I know my sister; I'm pretty sure we're in possession of something that will make her change her mind."

"And that is…?" Severus prompts her. Bellatrix grins, the expression reminiscent of a bloodthirsty shark.

"Lucius," she cackles. "Narci's a helpless romantic; one word from him, and she'll do _anything_."

"I don't even know the girl," Lucius protests. Nevertheless, his eyes light up with interest.

"That doesn't matter," Bellatrix reveals, grin widening. She continues, tone mocking, "Ever since it was arranged, she's been exposed to all sorts of lies. You're her Knight in Shining Armor."

"Surely, she doesn't believe in such a thing?" Severus asks, rolling his eyes. He moves to massage his temples, attempting to fight off an impending headache.

"She does," Bellatrix tells him, eyes glazing over with fondness. "You won't _believe_ the number of fights we've had over this."

"You tried to destroy her beliefs?" Lucius asks, his lips twitching upward in a knowing smirk. Bellatrix chortles, her eyes lighting up with latent glee.

"Oh, _yes_ ," she admits, unashamed. "Year after year, I told her truths about you – ones she didn't want to believe. It was _beautiful_ seeing the light dim in her eyes."

"You're horrible," Severus mumbles, resigned. He knows that the words have no effect on Bellatrix, knows that they only serve to make her happier. Even so, he still tries, on the off-chance that they'll get to her.

"I _know_ ," Bellatrix breathes, eyes glazed over. "One time, she punched me in the face. It was awesome."

"Anyways," Lucius forcibly interrupts, not quite liking how Bellatrix fidgets in her chair. "Dinner starts in five minutes, and I'm rather famished."

Rather than say anything, Bellatrix quickly rises from her position on the sofa and sprints out of the Common Room. Lucius and Severus follow at a more sedate pace, fond smiles curling along the edges of their lips. However, upon walking into the Great Hall, they carefully erase their amusement, and all thoughts of the new girl are banished.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Lucius Malfoy," he greets, extending his hand. Narcissa smiles at him, the expression almost abnormally bright.

"Narcissa Black," she returns, voice carrying a melodic tune. She shakes his hand lightly, allowing the touch to last longer than is strictly necessary. Lucius grins.

"Narci!" a voice pipes up. They turn to see Bellatrix running towards them, a smirk stretching across her face. Her wand is held tightly within her hands, her lips already in the process of forming the words to a deadly spell. "Confringo!"

A bright, blue light emits from the tip of her wand, heading towards Narcissa at frightening speeds. Rather than panicking, like one might expect, Narcissa grins.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she yells, dodging the Blasting Curse. She watches, mesmerized, as her sister's face scrunches up in surprise, giving way to full-blown terror when she realizes she can't dodge the frigid, blue spell. The moment of impact is clear; Bellatrix's body seizes up, the passage of time halted abruptly.

"You're beautiful like this, Bella," she says, approaching her. Tenderly, she cups her sister's cheek, pressing a fond kiss to it. "I haven't lost my touch."

"Well done," Lucius interrupts, smiling. "I've never seen someone beat her."

"Had I not known her for as long as I have, I wouldn't be able to," Narcissa confesses, blushing. She ducks her head at the praise, feeling shyness creep through her veins.

"You're amazing," Lucius tells her, hooking one finger under her chin. He forces her to look at him, his eyes strangely earnest. "We could use someone like you."

"What are you talking about?" Narcissa asks, confused. Her cheeks darken at the action. "The Death Eaters," he elaborates, slowly. His arm wraps around her waist, distracting her. Leisurely, he pulls her closer to him, his lips mere inches away. "We could use someone as brilliant as you."

"I can't," Narcissa refutes, breathing shakily. She peers into his eyes, getting lost in the silver depths. She attempts to pull away, to no avail. His grip around her tightens, his lips coming closer. They're pressed against each other; their breaths mingling. That spark of silver, so full of life, so lovely…

Narcissa feels desire course through her.

"You can," he whispers. Electricity runs through her veins, igniting every nerve in her body. She wants to arch into him, wants to finally seal their lips, yet something holds her back. An inkling, a thought – a stray one.

"There are two kinds of evil people in this world," she recites. "Those who do evil stuff, and those who see evil stuff being done and don't try to stop it."

"As of now, the world is vile," Lucius tells her. "You can make a difference, but it comes at a risk… For now, you'll be seen as evil. Later, though, people will understand the full gravity of your actions."

"The Death Eaters kill people," Narcissa reminds him, pulling back. Her eyes brighten, the fog slowly receding. Skepticism color her words. "Murdering people in cold blood is _wrong_."

"There is always a reason," Lucius whispers. "Every day, corrupt politicians and individuals are allowed to roam the world, unchecked. They wreak havoc on our justice system, yet the public refuses to fight them out of cowardice. _We_ fight them. The Death Eaters protect the public's rights, fighting all who gets in our way."

"Many innocent people die in the crossfire," Narcissa points out, pulling away completely. She turns towards the door, _needing_ to get away from Lucius lest she lose herself to his charms.

"This is war," Lucius says, deathly calm. He grabs her wrist, willing her to understand. "While casualties are tragic, they're necessary."

"I can't," Narcissa whispers, pulling her arm from him forcibly. She approaches the door, intent on leaving.

"No one's asking you to fight," Lucius calls after her. "If you want to, you can stay in the shadows, devising plans. You can minimize the casualties through pure brilliance. You can save lives _and_ spare the public from corrupt officials."

Narcissa pauses.

"I won't have to fight?" she parrots.

"No," Lucius confirms. "As my betrothed, you'll be treated with respect. If you don't want to fight, you won't have to."

"Fine," Narcissa says, turning around. She peers into his eyes, considering his sincerity. "I'll do it. I just have one more request."

"What is it?"

"You must be mine and mine alone," she says. She ducks her head, her blush returning full-force. Lucius laughs, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"I already planned on it," he admits. "You are too wonderful for me to let you go. Now, you should probably release the spell before Bella throws a fit…"

Having just remembered her frozen sister, Narcissa rushes to Bellatrix's side, ignoring the chuckle Lucius releases. Years later, true to his word, Narcissa becomes the Head Coordinator, second to only Voldemort himself. Within her stomach, a healthy child lays.

* * *

 **FIN**


	248. Destroyed By Madness

**Title: Destroyed by Madness**

 **Pairing: Ginny Weasley x Harry Potter**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **Warnings: No dialogue, narrative, alternate reality, child abuse.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _"_ _Love is a learned behavior._

 _If you don't learn how to love yourself, someone will teach you how to hate yourself."_

Tony Gaskins

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

When the moon shines its brightest, unhindered by the sun, Harry finally allows the tears to fall. He curls into himself, his head coming to rest lightly on his knees. He permits the emotions to overwhelm him, permits the thoughts to consume him. For those few, small, moments, he lets himself become vulnerable. However, when he hears a creak outside his cupboard, Harry quickly forges his mask.

A sliver of light cuts into the darkness, blinding him. For a moment, Harry's lost, disorientation taking over his senses. Then, by some miracle, the light slowly dissipates, leaving a clear picture. His uncle stands before him, an ugly sneer painting his lips. Harry's lips part, surprise and trepidation shining in his eyes, and he's abruptly yanked forward.

He has no time to ward off the spittle that flies onto his face, brought on by his uncle's nonsensical yelling; he has no time to block the incoming hits, each one more brutal than the last; he has no time to prevent the shattering of his heart, a crack forming with every hateful word spewed into his face.

After what seems like hours, Vernon finally leaves. Harry's left on the floor, bruised and bloodied. His eyes are vacant, all light having long since been lost. Darkness fills his heart, obscuring every positive characteristic he liked about himself.

The next day, upon peering into the mirror, Harry sees a freak with bright, green eyes.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Since then, every move he makes has been slow, deliberate. Harry never lets on how much he despises himself. Rather, he stays mysteriously silent when his housemates are talking, content to let them make their own assumptions about him. Surely, the Boy-Who-Lived has the confidence of a King; surely, he has never had to face much hardship, besides Voldemort; surely, he isn't on the verge of destruction.

A well-crafted smile here, a few carefully selected words there, omissions in times of sharing… No one questions him.

The monster inside him smiles; the boy inside him frowns.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

The desire to be understood, loved, all of it; Harry suppresses it, determined to punish himself. He allows the pain of denial to course through him, scorching his veins with the powerful sensation of justice; he allows the feeling of inadequacy to grow, soon spreading to every part of him; he allows the madness to fester inside his mind, beginning to overwhelm him.

He doesn't realize it, at first. He thinks of it as an experiment, to further detain the horrible part of him that wants love and affection. Vernon's words echo inside his head, pushing him further into a shroud of suffering. Slowly, Harry loses himself to that feeling. Even when Voldemort is defeated, the abyss threatens to suffocate him, those words obscuring the praise of the masses. He is not Harry Potter, the Savior, but Harry Potter, the Destroyer. The feelings of madness follow him, refusing him freedom, even when he marries Ginny and impregnates her. His days become listless, the sounds of babies crying and the roaring of his own failure echoing through his ears.

Harry attempts to silence the fear, burying himself in alcohol and pointless activities. However, it plagues him relentlessly, pushing him further into his own despair. Soon, Harry Potter withers away, the monster inside him, even in death. Even then, no one knows of the plague that haunted him.

Had those words never passed Vernon's lips, perhaps, he'd have found peace.

* * *

 **Prompt:**

 **Assignment 2 - Child Psychology - Write about a child demonstrating learned behavior from a role model or adult. Extra Prompt: Experiment.**

 **Word Count: 620**


	249. Drabble 249: BlaiseLavender

**Title:** Obscured

 **Pairing:** Blaise x Lavender

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Author's Note:** Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. Round 7. Prompt: Write about two witches or wizards going undercover in a Muggle town and having to learn to live like Muggles.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Smiles paint their faces, bright in nature. One might be prompted to engage them in a conversation, to get to know them, but I don't. Rather, I actively steer clear of them, terror coursing through my veins whenever one gets too close.

The Muggles are unlike anything I've ever faced. The way they interact is positive, _happy_. Looking at them, one wouldn't expect the ugly sneers that adorn their faces when nobody's looking, wouldn't expect the innocent body language to turn into something more menacing, more condescending.

The way their masks shift, seamlessly changing with every person they encounter… it frightens me. I can't distinguish between reality and fantasy. All of it blurs together, leaving me reeling. I desperately try to discern truths from lies, sincerity from fabrication, genuine behaviors from falsehoods… I grasp at straws, unsure of who to trust, and it _overwhelms_ me.

In the Wizarding World, we're _honest_. When we don't like someone, we don't give them the time of day. Dark wizards are openly shunned, abusers are clearly ostracized, criminals are blatantly judged. Here, though? Systematic racism runs rampant, yet is shrouded under a veil of tolerance. People don't actively insult each other, don't allow their actions to convey disdain. They smile, laugh, and exchange pleasantries, but none of it is genuine. Underneath it all, malicious intent swirls around, growing larger and larger with every passing day.

It _disturbs_ me.

"Blaise," I call out, one day. The Italian turns toward me, curiosity clear within his gaze. I relish in the honesty of his expression, in the knowledge that I have nothing to fear from him. Then, I speak: "Surely, you can go alone?"

"You know I can't, Lavender," he scolds, shaking his head. The curiosity morphs into patience, something that only serves to annoy me.

"I only need one day," I protest, clenching my fists. "All of it—It's too much."

"I thought you were a Gryffindor?" he remarks, shaking his head in exasperation. I feel anger rise within me, my annoyance reaching new heights.

"I am," I say, glaring. He laughs, as if he finds me adorable. A faint ringing echoes in my ears. "We have to work together," I snap, irritation finally getting the better of me. "We might as well get along."

"We _are_ getting along," he insists, lips settling into a small smile. "Since the war, I've had no qualms with anyone—much less you."

"Why _did_ you leave the Dark Army?" I ask, after a moment. Intrigue surges through me, and I can feel Blaise's sharp eyes taking me in, considering me. After a moment, his smile grows.

"Because," he begins, leaning forward. I find myself doing the same, all attempts at nonchalance forgotten. "It was _boring_."

My expression falls, the irritation coming back with a vengeance. Immediately, I rise from the plump sofa, intent on stomping to my room. A darkened hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me backwards. I stumble, my eyes widening in surprise, but I can't react fast enough. I fall backwards, my arms scrambling to find balance, yet I land in a comfortable lap.

"Having fun?" Blaise teases, relishing in the bright blush that paints my cheeks. I try to get up, but I'm too embarrassed. I fall back down with a defeated huff, a small pout curling along the edges of my lips.

"I blame this on you," I tell him, shaking my head. He laughs, the sound ringing in my ears pleasantly. My blush darkens.

"Of course, you do," Blaise agrees, amused. I move to stand up, but he pulls me down. "You're not going anywhere, yet. We still need to finish our conversation."

"You already said no," I point out, disappointed. "What's there to talk about?"

"The underlying problem," he says, as if it's obvious. "You're uncomfortable; I want to know why."

"You haven't noticed?" I shoot him an incredulous glance, shocked when he shakes his head. "The way they stare at you—as if you're _different_. It's sickening."

"Ah, you noticed that?"

"Why don't you sound annoyed?" I ask, the words falling from my tongue. Blaise looks at me, his expression one of thoughtfulness.

"It's been happening for years," he admits. "Muggles are aware of the differences in skin tone, much like wizards are aware of the differences in magic. They simply conceal it."

" _Why_? Why is it a problem?" Panic assaults me, memories flashing through my mind. I look at him pleadingly, begging for an answer. Distantly, I remember the looks they sent Blaise—disdain clearly etched onto their features. I remember being disgusted, confused, _panicked_. I had wanted to get away from them, to leave as quickly as possible. I had _done_ that, but their expressions _haunt_ me.

"I told you," Blaise says, sighing. "People are always going to notice differences, no matter what race it is. Wizards tend to focus on the "purity" of one's magic. Muggles, in contrast, tend to focus on skin color. It's just the way things are."

"It's _wrong_ , though," I try to protest. Blaise considers me for a moment, his lips twitching upward.

"That it is," he admits. "However, this has been happening for centuries. There is _nothing_ we can do to stop the cycle. For now, we have to focus on the mission and report back to the Ministry."

"We can refuse to play into it," I say, after a moment. Thoughts race through my head, solidifying with every passing moment. "Of course, we have to keep tabs on their progress with technology, but that doesn't mean we can't try and stop it."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Blaise asks, his eyebrows raised. I nod, my cheeks darkening.

"I _hate_ when they look at you, as if you're a freak," I confide silently. His cheeks darken, a foreign sight, and a smile illuminates his features.

"I _love_ when you defend me," he says, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. A soft, crimson dims my cheeks, and I forcibly pull myself from his grip.

"Don't do that," I order, flustered. His grin widens, fond exasperation clear in his gaze.

"Go get dressed," he says, changing the subject. "If you truly want to defy the cycle, we have to be seen in public together."

I nod hurriedly, the prospect of beating racism prompting me to forget my embarrassment. I run to my room, oblivious to the intrigued eyes tracking my movements.

* * *

 **WC: 1,069**


	250. Drabble 250: AlbusScorpius

**Title:** Thy Shadow, Encompassing

 **Pairing:** Albus Severus x Scorpius Malfoy

 **Rating:** Teen

 **AN:** Written for Round 8 of QL. Submission by Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. My Headcannon: Write about Albus Severus having a hard time accepting his sexuality.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

Feelings of inadequacy, of jealousy... They swirl in his head, taunting him, teasing him. He wants to get up, to run away, but he can't. If he does, he'll lose all semblance of who he is - of his legacy, of his thoughts, of his feelings; he'll disappoint his father, show him that he really is a failure, that he truly can't be the man he wants him to be.

"You have to be courageous, Albus," Ginny had told him, one night. "The other children will seek you out, desperate to see what the son of the Savior is like. They'll have expectations, opinions. It's gonna hurt, lovely. Merlin knows your father had to endure the same thing. However, I'm sure you'll find someone who will see you for who you really are; who will dare to venture beyond the surface."

"What if that person doesn't exist?" Albus had asked, fear edging into his voice. He didn't want to appear weak, didn't want to seem vulnerable, yet he was afraid, so very afraid.

"They do," Ginny had said, her voice ringing with conviction. The sincerity behind her words had infiltrated his system, warming him. He had looked at her, considered the way her eyes gleamed with honesty, with love, and nodded.

"Okay," he whispers to himself, remembering the strength his mother had bestowed upon him that day. "I can do this; I _must_ do this."

He rises from the armchair situated by the fireplace and graces his father with a small smile.

"I'm ready," he says, nodding. "Let's go."

Harry grins at him, the expression soft, welcoming.

"I'm proud of you, Albus," he tells him. "Don't forget that, son."

Albus nods, the words reaching inside him, giving him strength.

"I won't," he says, grinning. "Now, stop being an old fart and worrying. I'll be fine."

Harry reaches out to ruffle his hair fondly, his eyes shining with unrestrained satisfaction.

"I know you will," he reassures him, laughing. "I can't wait until you're older; when you're the one afflicted with creaky bones. Let's see who you're calling an old fart, then!"

"You wish, old man," Albus says, sticking out his tongue. When Harry's eyes turn playfully murderous, he sprints towards the door, laughing when his father gives chase.

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry!"

He sets off on a new journey that day, his father supporting him. For a while, he feels loved, free.

Of course, that has to change.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

Sadness, loneliness, confusion; all of it builds inside of him, churning within his stomach. Hundreds of children surround him, bright smiles painting their faces. They're excited, their bodies vibrating with wonder and joy. Surely, they view the next few years as a great adventure.

Albus wishes he could feel the same.

Trepidation assaults him, refusing to let go. He can feel the stares boring into his thin frame, can already make out the frigid assessments that are being made. To them, he isn't Albus Severus Potter; rather, he's the son of the Boy-Who-Lived. He isn't allowed to feel scared, hesitant. He must be confident and sure of himself; a Knight ready to set out into the world.

He's isn't.

Rose isn't like him. His cousin stands beside him, her eyes alight with the same wonder that lurks in the other children's eyes. Her gait is strong and confident; she truly appears as if she's ready to tackle the world. In that moment, envy rears its ugly head. Forcibly, he ignores it.

"Rose," he says, after a moment. "Where do you want to sit?"

 _Stay with her,_ he thinks. _You don't have to endure their stares alone._ For a moment, she looks around, her emerald eyes scanning the train compartments. Finally, she smiles, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"There," she points. Albus follows her finger, surprised when he sees a familiar shade of blonde hair.

"Isn't that Malfoy's son?" he asks, surprised. His father's voice rings in his ears, barely veiled regret washing over him. He remembers the crestfallen expression the man had sported, remembers how sorry his father had been. Determination fills him, tempting him to move forward, to make up for Harry's mistakes. He doesn't wait for Rose's response. He simply makes his way towards the lone boy, ignoring the sudden hush of the train as the other students realize his intentions.

"Is that him?" a voice asks, reverent confusion in their tone.

"Surely, not. He's entirely too thin," another person refutes, skeptical.

"Look, he's heading towards Malfoy!" someone pipes up.

The words wash over him, each one seemingly louder than the last, yet Albus forges on. Malfoy looks up, then, as if feeling the disbelief swirling in the air. Their eyes meet. Bright, emeralds and piercing, silver. In that instant, Albus is assaulted by so many emotions it physically _hurts_.

Those eyes are clouded with loneliness, isolation, fear, and sadness. It mirrors his own gaze perfectly, leaving him unsure as to where his feelings end and the other's begin. A part of him, a large part, points out that this can't be happening, that this is entirely too cliche. How can someone tangibly see the emotions of another? Nevertheless, a small part of him screams that it is possible, that this soul is just like him in so many ways. That it has experienced the same trials and tribulations, that it wishes to obtain freedom, as well. The sensations leave him nearly dizzy.

His mother's words echo in his head, _"I'm sure you'll find someone who will see you for who you really are; who will dare to venture beyond the surface."_ He feels reluctance eating away at his soul, skepticism rising in the pit of his stomach. Regardless, he forces himself to take that last step, their eyes meeting in a blazing storm of green and silver.

"I'm Albus," he says, finally coming to a stop. Those silver eyes regard him, a spark of recognition appearing within their depths. Surprisingly, it appears to be curiosity.

"Scorpius," the other introduces, offering him a polite smile. "Scorpius Malfoy."

"This is Rose," he says, gesturing to his shell-shocked cousin. "She's a first-year, too."

Scorpius looks at her and offers a small smile; however, his eyes inevitably travel back to Albus, as if not quite believing he's there. For some reason, that prompts the corners of Albus' lips to twist upward in a small smile.

"Look," he begins, deciding to address the issue now. "I know our fathers have a tough history, but we don't have to."

"You're right," Scorpius says, after a moment. The shine in his eyes shifts, the curiosity morphing into something else, something lighter. Albus tries to guess what it is, but he can't seem to decipher it. "We could be friends if you want."

"I'd like that," Albus says, a genuine smile painting his lips. His eyes gleam with barely restrained happiness and hope dares to rise in his chest. His father's legacy, the one that threatens to crush him on a daily basis, is finally stabilized. He breathes in, wonder prompting him to consider something he's never considered before - _happiness_.

He moves to sit beside Scorpius, excited by the prospect of meeting someone new. Rose comes to sit next to him, after a while, her eyes taking on a calculated gleam. Albus ignores her, for the most part, sure that she'll draw whatever conclusion she wants, regardless of what he says.

All the while, the remaining students watch them from afar, a collective feeling of surprise stirring in their hearts. One thought is clear between them: the next few years will be unlike anything Hogwarts has ever seen.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

Reminiscent of a flower, their friendship grows over the years. When Albus is sorted into Slytherin, Scorpius protects him from the brunt of everyone's scorn. He fights for him, pledges allegiance to him. It's sweet, and Albus feels warmth begin to form inside his chest. In the beginning, he pushes it aside, thinking it to be confusion.

He ignores the darkening shade of his cheeks whenever Scorpius is around, ignores the rapidly pulsating heart inside his chest, ignores the desire that moves through him. He forgets all about the girls in his year, his mind instead choosing to focus on the mesmerizing, silver pools of his friend. He begins to prefer harder, leaner bodies than softer, curvier ones.

It scares him. Fear grips him, freezing his blood. He fears for their friendship, fears for the happiness he's finally managed to come across. Surely, if he expresses this hidden adoration, Scorpius will pull away from him; surely, he'll cast him out from his life, leaving Albus broken and alone; surely, he'll go back to the all-compassing feeling of terror that used to assault him, his father's legacy threatening to crush him once more.

Fright entices him to lock his feelings away, to ignore them. He does so quickly, fearing the worst. His eyes lose their shine; his heart loses its warmth. His days grow long, listless. He can't remember who he was anymore.

The clock ticks in the background, foreboding.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

"Admit it," Rose demands, eyes flashing. "You like him."

"I don't," Albus instantly denies, shaking his head. He refuses to look up, scared that she'll see the emotions that shine behind sorrowful emeralds. "We're just friends."

"You are," she agrees, "but you want more."

"Drop it," he says, sighing. "I don't like him, and that's the end of that."

"Be careful, Albus," she cautions, annoyed. "Roxy has her eyes on him. One wrong move on your part, and he'll be gone forever."

"Yeah, that'd be a problem," Albus says, snorting. "You know, if I actually had a crush on him."

"You're crazy," Albus tells her, shaking his head. "Absolutely, positively, crazy."

"Maybe so," Rose begins, "but I know I'm right."

"Maybe you are right," Albus agrees, nodding. "But I'd never put our friendship in jeopardy, even if I did like him."

"You're a fool," Rose hisses, irritated. "A stupid, stupid, fool."

"That foolishness keeps me happy," Albus remarks. "That's all I can ask for."

Rose sighs, her frustration reaching an all-time high. She sweeps out of the room in a fit of rage, enraged that Albus could possibly be so dense; nevertheless, a plan begins to form in her mind. A smile curls along her lips; Albus would admit his feelings, whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

 **o-O-o**

* * *

 _"It's supposed to happen at midnight... Roxy's already decided to pull him to the side, to confess."_

Terror grips him, forcing him to go harder, faster. He has to get there, has to put a stop to it.

 _"Scorpius apparently already knows. They say he's in love with her, that once she confesses, he'll finally give in."_

Lies, lies. All of it, lies.

 _"Remember that old legend about the Astronomy Tower? If you kiss your beloved at the stroke of midnight, you'll be bound forever?"_

Faster, faster, faster! Tears burn in his eyes. His chest is tight; his mind clouded with hysteria. The stairs are killing him; he stumbles a lot, forcing himself to regain his footing. Almost there, almost there...!

 _"Poor Albus..."_

He sees their silhouettes. Without hesitation, he propels himself forward, the chime of the clock echoing loudly in the room. A feeling of panic grips him, and he pushes Roxanne out of the way. He doesn't ask, doesn't even pause to consider it; he merely presses himself into Scorpius, their lips meeting in a harsh, lovely kiss.

Scorpius' eyes flutter closed, his lips moving with his own, and elation builds inside of Albus. The kiss seems to last forever; their passion fueling it. Finally, Albus pulls away with a ditzy grin, his eyes glazed over in happiness, amazement. He feels whole.

...Then, he notices it. Roxanne's wide eyes, the angered set of her jaw.

" _Fuck_ ," he says, the word tumbling from his mouth. He can't help it; he tilts his head back and laughs. Roxanne shouts at him, angered beyond belief, but Albus can't bring himself to focus on it.

He's... happy.

* * *

 **Word Count: 1,999.**


	251. Drabble 251: Roger Davies

**Title:** Vota Tenebris

 **Character:** Roger Davies

 **Rating:** Teen

 **AN:** Written for Round 9 of Quidditch League. Submission by Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. Prompt: Write about someone being seen in a new light.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

A veil of darkness covers the sky, broken solely by the dim light of the stars and the radiant shine of the moon. With his cheek resting against his palm, Roger examines the luminescent scene before him with boredom. Distantly, he can hear the low thrum of his classmates' voices as they talk amongst themselves, undoubtedly regaling heavily embellished tales. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of real company, the likes of which never have to alter or significantly change their adventures. He laments the smooth, velvety voices that caress innuendos with amorous affections, doling them out like a lover would.

Then, Roger takes a moment to peer at the High Table, feeling disappointment rise in his chest. Most of the staff are indulging themselves with vigor, no sense of modesty in sight. Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall appear to be the only ones able to eat with decorum, something that causes a flare of disgust to well up inside him.

"Roger?" a voice calls out, feminine in nature. He turns to the right, a smile plastering itself on his face. All sense of coldness disappears, having been replaced by a warm, affectionate visage.

"Yes?" he answers, looking into her eyes. He watches with feigned interest as her cheeks turn a light pink, her body tensing slightly.

"Just wanted to make sure you're okay," she says, quickly. She averts her eyes, blush darkening. "You seem sad."

"How could I possibly be sad when there's such a cute girl next to me?" Roger asks, grinning. He slides closer to her, allowing his arm to wrap around her shoulders. He can hear the chuckles of his classmates behind him, can practically _feel_ the eyerolls, yet he ignores them. Instead, he focuses on the blushing girl before him, allowing his smile to grow.

"I-I…" the girl stutters out, seeming to blanch. He grins.

"We have a Quidditch game, next week," he tells her. "Do me the honor of cheering for me in the stands?"

"Of course," she says, seeming to regain her composure. She coughs lightly, a small smile crossing her features. "I'd love to cheer for you."

"Much appreciated," he sing-songs, laughing. He can see the fond smiles on his classmate's faces, undoubtedly caused by his "classic" behavior. A twinge of disdain fills him, yet he masks it carefully. His fellow alumni spend their days in inefficient ways. They attend their classes, but learn nothing; hold conversations, but speak of nothing; complain of too much work, but do _nothing_. It's a horrible cycle that leaves them with no real knowledge. It's something that he, a self-proclaimed scholar, can only sympathize with.

Sighing inwardly, Roger allows himself to get carried into their next conversation, arguing dramatically over their recent loss against Gryffindor. To them, he appears interested, vengeful, and irritated. On the inside, though… a figure obscured in darkness smiles, maliciousness emitting from its form.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _Dearest Roger,_

 _This is a very dangerous path you've chosen for yourself. Your father is elated, naturally, but I find myself to be plagued with concern. The Dark Forces are not to be trifled with, son. One wrong move on your part can end in bloodshed, and I find the mere thought terrifying. You're my precious child, my baby. If you were hurt, I'm not sure I'd ever recover. We're in debt, yes, but that isn't your burden to bear. Look, I'm not asking for you to change your mind. I simply want you to think this over, to give it every ounce of reasoning you have. You're a smart boy; I trust that you'll know what to do._

 _Forever loving you,_

 _Mom_

Frowning, Roger places the letter on his bed. He allows his mind to be clouded with memories of his mother, remembers the constant darkening of her eyes. He remembers the weight that placed itself on her shoulders, growing heavier and heavier with every passing day. The woman had tried to take care of him, had tried to curb her husband's tendency to gamble, but it wasn't enough. Soon, Maximillian Davies had placed them under so much debt, they had no choice but to give their firstborn over to Voldemort.

In the beginning, sure, it had irritated Roger. He had wanted to scream at the sheer injustice of it all, had wanted to point out that he had nothing to do with it, had been willing to do _anything_ to get out of it. Then, he realized just how _wonderful_ an opportunity this was. He allowed himself to be dragged to meetings, forced himself to converse with the Death Eaters that resided there, had pushed himself to learn more and more, becoming the man he is today. He created a mask composed of learned behaviors, one designed to help him in the most difficult of situations. He _rose, survived, and conquered_ despite the odds.

Roger had entered that room a frightened child, but he had left an intelligent man. For that, he'd give _anything_ to stay, to continue to grow and learn, even if it risked his life. Leaning back against his bed, Roger allows his eyes to flutter closed. Tomorrow, he'll draft a letter to his mother and explain his desires. For now, though, sleep is prevalent. His mind enters a state of blissful relaxation and he dreams of reaching new heights. That night, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Don't mess this up," his mentor, Rabastan, tells him. Roger nods, careful to keep his expression neutral. Accepting the book from the other's hands, he doesn't hesitate to apparate back to Hogsmeade, using the secret passageways to find his way back to Hogwarts. Upon entering the dorms, he moves to sit on his bed. He doesn't hesitate to draw the curtains closed, muttering a sticking charm and silencing spell to ensure his privacy. Reverently, he opens the book and smiles when he sees the hollow inside. Roger eagerly reaches inside, carefully pulling out a vial filled with small, silver capsules.

Holding it to the light, he allows himself to laugh, the sound loud and boisterous. It echoes within the confines of his bed, dissipating when it reaches the beginnings of the curtains. His smile is wide and carefree, a stark contrast to his earlier behavior.

"Almost there," he whispers to himself, grinning. "With this beautiful thing, I'm one step closer to obtaining peace…" His hand moves to caress the forgotten letter beside him, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"Mom," he says, "the danger you warned me of… Soon, you won't have to be afraid." He clutches the vial close to him, elation warring with the need to be cautious. After a

while, he forces himself to put the vial back inside the book. Cautiously, he places it underneath his pillow. He falls asleep, holding it close through the night.

Next week, his reign of terror officially begins.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Students fall left and right, oblivious to the capsules that have been added to their meals. Roger stretches himself thin, meeting group after group to relay his instructions, his face brightening when he realizes the pill _worked_.

Years ago, when he had first introduced the concept to Voldemort, he had been sure that it wouldn't stick. After all, to even _think_ that one could create a solidified version of the Imperius Curse was _mental_. Nevertheless, Voldemort had listened to him, _reasoned_ with him. He had him explain the concept to Snape, and actually demanded that it be brought to fruition. Even then, Roger had thought it was a lost cause, but it _wasn't._ Now, years later, his invention _worked!_

The days begin to blur together for Roger, each one becoming more tiresome than the last. He doesn't realize it, but he grows _sloppy_. The power high gets to him, obscuring his priorities, and he fails to realize one important thing…

Albus Dumbledore is _always_ watching.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Roger, mate, what have you done?" Absently, he recognizes the voice, but he can't bring himself to identify it. Roger can only focus on the mind-numbing fear that pulses through him, threatening to drive him mad. He can only focus on the need to run, to get away, but he _can't._ He hears the spell before it hits him, feels the ropes already beginning to wrap around him.

"Roger Davies," an Auror calls out, voice menacing. "We hereby charge you with conspiring with the Dark Lord and purposeful child endangerment. Therefore, you shall be sentenced to life in Azkaban."

The words echo in his head, foreboding, yet he can do nothing. His mind flashes to his mother, to the inevitable sadness that will plague her, but he can't cry. He _won't_ cry.

"I've done nothing wrong," he proclaims. "Unlike all of you, I've sought to become a better wizard. I've done everything to further my family's standing and to become someone the wizarding world could be proud of. What do your children do? Sit around and complain about their education? I _helped_ them. I forced them to improve their lives, to give themselves to a cause that wouldhelpthem, in the end. You should be _praising_ me, not condemningme."

Roger opens his mouth, intent on continuing, but they don't give him a chance. They drag him away with a sorrowful shake of the head, _pity_ clear on their faces.

"Poor Roger," he hears. "What did the Dark Lord do to him?"

"He's a victim," another student proclaims. "Our Rodger was kind, generous, loving… He was an awful flirt, who would have _never_ done this."

"Yeah," someone chimes in. " _Our_ Rodger wouldn't have done this."

Their voices haunt him, _degrade_ him, and Roger wants to _scream_. He had never been a victim; even when he had been given to Voldemort, he _hadn't_ been a victim. All the things he had done - the studying, the learning, the manipulating, the crafting… All of it had been done in the pursuit of a higher education, of a _benefit_. How _dare_ they call him a victim? Before he could scream, yell, or even rage, he's apparated away.

In the end, no one gets the chance to learn his true story. Roger Davies is added to the list of casualties in the war and is regarded as a _tragedy_. The truth is shrouded in mystery.

* * *

 **FIN**


	252. Drabble 252: AlbusHarry (Platonic)

**Title: Tales of Tragedy**

 **Rating: Teen**

 **AN: Written for Astronomy, Assignment 5 - Write about something lasting for a long time.**

* * *

"Our lives are tragic, Harry," Dumbledore says, sighing. "We cast away our inherent darkness to gain contentment, yet we can't escape it. Our demons pursue us, their strength multiplying with every passing moment. We attempt to run from them, to fulfill the lies given to us as children, but are unsuccessful. They're stronger than us, larger than us… We're bound to them, destined to play a never-ending game of hide and seek. Sad, no?"

"Very," Harry comments, shaking his head. "I don't understand it, honestly. If we're born with darkness, why has there been so many good people in the world? Merlin, for instance. He's one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived-"

"Be careful, my boy," Dumbledore cuts in, his eyes shining. "You're beginning to confuse greatness with happiness."

"There's a difference?" Harry pauses, looking at him imploringly. Dumbledore sighs.

"Popularity does not define happiness, my boy. You could be the most powerful man alive–loved by the rich, despised by the poor, envied by all–yet still feel an acute sense of loneliness," he explains patiently. Tilting his head to the side, Harry averts his gaze to the shelf beside him. He admires the trinkets adorning the smooth mahogany, allowing the Headmaster's words to sink in.

"That doesn't explain why you called me here, Sir," he says, after a moment. He peers into blue eyes, confusion clouding his gaze. "Undoubtedly, it's a good lesson, but not something to summon me for."

"Patience, Harry," Dumbledore chides, smiling. Nevertheless, he nods. "I wouldn't have called you for that, yes. I wanted to give you this…" He moves to open one of the drawers, his eyes lighting up when he grabs a large, brown package. He gives it to the teen, watching with interest as Harry opens it up with slow, careful hands.

"Headmaster…" Harry says, after a moment, voice breaking. Delicately, he removes the small box from its confines, careful to keep it held firmly within his hands. "Is this what I think it is?"

"A pensieve set, yes," Dumbledore confirms, smiling. Harry opens the latch and runs reverent fingers over the small, glass vials. "While children aren't supposed to have such potentially dangerous equipment, I trust that you'll be different considering all you've gone through."

"I can see my parents with this," Harry says slowly, testing the words on his lips. His eyes brighten, the prospect of seeing his loved ones making him giddy.

"You can," Albus confirms softly. He gestures towards the partially filled vials cushioned safely in a secret compartment, a smile on his face. "I've included some of my memories of them, as well. Such wonderful people they were."

"Thank you," Harry says, eyes glistening with moisture. "Seriously, thank you."

"No problem, my boy," Albus says, chuckling. "It's about time someone gives you this. How lonely you must have been with no recollection of them?"

"You have no idea," Harry remarks, after a moment, eyes darkening. He shakes his head, forcing away the negative thoughts. "I have to go back to class, but I'm eternally grateful for this."

"Of course," Dumbledore says, standing up. He gestures to the door, a jovial smile on his face. "Stay safe and have fun, Harry."

With a parting grin, Harry moves to leave the Headmaster's office, the box held to his chest. Finally, after years of pain and suffering, he'd finally see his parents again.

* * *

 **WC: 566**


	253. Drabble 253: HarryHermione

**Title: Smothered in Darkness**

 **Quidditch League, Appleby Arrows, Prompt: Write about a romantic story on a spring day.**

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Darkness surrounds him, shattered solely by the slither of light piercing the window. Vacant, emerald eyes stare ahead aimlessly; their depths lost, cloudy. The radiant, silver beams cover his back, adding a luminescent shine, but he pays it no heed. Silence permeates the air, prompting his pulse to thunder beneath his skin.

 _You could leave,_ a voice whispers. _This is your domain. Wish for a door, and it will appear._

"I don't want to leave," Harry says, twitching. "Leaving requires facing demons; I don't want to be destroyed."

 _Destruction is imminent,_ the voice refutes. _Your demise can be the result of courage or stupidity; the choice is yours._

"Courage _is_ stupidity," he replies, sneering. "By leaving, I'd just expose myself to more troubles. I'd be hurt, again, and I don't know if I can survive that."

 _So, you'd rather stay here?_ the voice questions. _Shrouded in the darkness of your own mindscape, forever desiring an escape?_

"Yes," Harry replies, the lie bitter on his tongue. "Here, nothing can hurt me."

 _Your memories still exist,_ the voice chides, _and until you realize the error of your ways… You'll endure them over and over again. I will drive you to the brink of insanity, and will only grant you freedom when you choose to leave this place._

"Why is this important?" Harry asks, exhaustion coloring his tone. His eyes shift upward, his attention drawn to the shadows overhead. "I don't want to endure the pain anymore; I want to be liberated from the chains of the wizarding world."

 _Because we are one, Harry,_ the voice replies. _You're denying every instinct that tells you to get up and leave, to fight the darkness threatening to eradicate the rest of the world. You want to hide out of cowardice, want to deny yourself the satisfaction of being useful… 'Cause that's what it is, isn't it? The idea of being useless is driving you insane. Somehow, you've concluded that your existence has caused more harm than good, that you've overstepped your boundaries and need to atone… You're wrong, though. We won't receive the love we need here. At this rate, we'll perish._

"I'm not-"

 _Regardless_ , the voice whispers. _You will see the errors of your ways, whether you like it or not._

The light streaming in from the window slowly dwindles, the shadows seeming to inch forward and consume the beams. Soon, Harry's immersed in darkness.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Harry…"

Reminiscent of bells chiming in the wind, Hermione's voice infiltrates his sleep-addled brain. Harry allows his eyes to flutter open, squinting when a bright light scorches them. Emerald eyes slowly adjust, their depths coming to rest on the girl smiling down at him.

"Good morning," Hermione whispers, reaching out to fix a stray strand of his hair. "You slept so long, I almost called Dumbledore."

Harry smiles, a light blush adorning his cheeks.

"Oh?" he asks, pulling her close. "You'd allow him to see you like this? So pale? So perfect?"

"No," Hermione laughs, eyes crinkling slightly. "I'd have gotten dressed, obviously."

"Such a shame," Harry sighs. "You're a sight to behold, 'Mione."

"I doubt it," she snorts; nonetheless, she leans down to kiss him. "Thank you for the kind sentiment, though."

"Always," Harry replies, stealing a kiss of his own. "I'll always remind you of your beauty, even when we're old and gray."

"Speak for yourself," Hermione declares haughtily, rolling her eyes. "I'll _never_ get gray hair."

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation, Harry cuddles Hermione closer to his chest and allows his gaze to roam upwards. The clouds above them move slowly, as if relishing their trek across the sky. The sun bears down upon them, and Harry can't help but delight in the tranquil atmosphere.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione whispers, nuzzling against his chest. "The flowers are beginning to bloom, and the weather is starting to warm. Things are starting to get better, Harry."

"Perhaps," he says, eyes hazy. "Hopefully, that's not a dream within a dream…"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asks, looking at him, puzzled. Harry grins, peering down at her with adoration.

"You're a dream, Princess," he tells her. "So kind, so beautiful, so perfect… You can't possibly be mine."

"I am," Hermione says, grinning. She presses a chaste kiss to his lips, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. "Forever, even if you can't fathom it."

"You're too good to me, 'Mione," Harry says, after a moment. His eyes sting with tears, memories of the war assaulting him. Distantly, he can smell the putrid stench of death; hear the screams of his companions as they fall; see brilliant arrays of light as spells are cast wordlessly; taste the metallic nature of his own blood; feel the pain lancing through his body as he pushed himself.

He hugs her tighter, not willing to speak anymore. Hermione clutches him to her, already aware of the route his mind has taken.

"It's okay," she whispers. "I'm here."

Somehow, the pain begins to ebb away. With it, the scene begins to dissolve. Darkness takes over, leaving Harry alone in an abyss of obsidian.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

Screams pierce the air, reminiscent of that day. Harry feels blind panic surge through his veins, urging him to sprint through the corridors. He thinks of caramel, brown eyes; a mesmerizing, bright smile; messy, brunette hair; calloused, pale hands… He imagines her face contorted in pain, the very thought prompting him to move faster than he ever has. He reaches the Great Hall in record time, careful to keep to the shadows. He captures her attention, prompting her to let out a small sigh of relief.

"Harry," Hermione calls, voice breathy. "It's Ron; he—"

Her voice cuts off, a pained scream replacing it. She writhes inside the bonds Bellatrix encased her in, sweat perspiration across her brow. A surge of anger rushes through his veins, but Harry forces it down to a simmer. He can't lose control; not when Hermione's life is on the line. Looking to the left, he notices Ron's prone form on the ground; his eyes immediately catching sight of the blood gushing from his side. Without hesitation, he looks Hermione in the eyes, hoping, _praying_ , that Hermione's stellar ability to understand him will work.

Luckily, it does.

With a nod, the witch stops fighting against the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, instead opting to scream openly into the air. Harry acts immediately; he summons his wand and fires off a spell of his own, watching as Bellatrix falls to the ground. Perhaps, had he allowed his anger to consume him and blindly raged forward, she would have won.

"Are you okay?" he asks, rushing over to Hermione. She nods quickly and moves to hug him tightly, her body shaking.

"I'm fine," she says, voice wavering. Her skin is pale, her eyes puffy, her cheeks stained with tears… Harry feels self-loathing build within his chest, growing larger and larger with every passing moment.

"I'm sorry," he says, pulling her close. "I'm so, so, sorry."

They stand there for a moment, holding each other, before a pained groan causes them to part. Rushing to Ron, both of them drop to their knees. Hermione, having retrieved her wand shortly after she was released, quickly begins casting diagnostic spells, her face growing grimmer with each one.

"We need to take him to Saint Mungo's," she says, casting the levitation charm. She grabs onto the red-head, staring at Harry with something akin to urgency. "Meet me there?"

He nods, and suddenly they're gone. Left behind, Harry allows the rage from earlier to bubble to the surface, threatening to tear him apart at the seams. He screams and yell, spells bursting from his wand in fits of anger. She was hurt because of him; had he taken care of Bellatrix on the last day of the war, maybe, just maybe, none of this would have happened. He had seen the blood she had tried to hide; had smelt the sharp tang of copper permeating the air.

 _Your fault,_ the voice whispers, coming back with a vengeance. _Sure, you could have stopped Bellatrix earlier, but Hermione would have been hurt eventually. You can't control that, even if you want to._

"…my…fault," Harry mumbles, shaking. He's still trapped in the memories; his mind hyper-focused on Hermione's pained screams. They echo in his head, _taunt_ him. He wants to scream, to plead for them to lead, to beg for mercy…

 _You need only say the words,_ the voice reminds him. _This torture can stop anytime you want. Accept me; accept us._

"Never…"

Emerald eyes flutter open for a brief second, determination within their broken gaze. A sigh resounds, and the darkness comes back with a vengeance.

 _As you wish,_ the voice says. _You will atone, over and over again. Until you're begging me for blessed freedom. Spring, which once represented a symbol of hope between you and your lover, will now become a wretched thing._

* * *

 **Word Count: 1,506.**


	254. Drabble 254: ArthurNarcissa

**Written by Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. Task: Write about a familial relationship between Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley.**

* * *

 **Dreams**

o-O-o

* * *

"Mother," Draco whispers, shock coursing through his veins. He tries to control his expression, inwardly chastising himself for his lack of self-discipline, but he can't bring himself to. Rather, he continues to stare ahead, his mouth partially open. "Surely what you're telling me isn't true?"

"Are you calling me a liar, Draco?" Narcissa asks calmly, looking straight into his eyes. Her fingers rest calmly within her lap, unmoving, and Draco marvels at her ability to remain peaceful during such a chaotic situation.

"No," he says wisely, after a moment. He takes a second to gather his thoughts, not wanting to make her angry. "It's just hard to believe. Surely, you understand?"

"I do," Narcissa eventually says. "However, it is the truth. Do with it what you will."

"What can I possibly do with this? We'd be a disgrace amongst the pureblood circles."

"For one, you can stop your verbal attacks," his mother says, unrepentant. "Sure, the parents are blood traitors, but the children aren't."

"A Weasley is a Weasley," Draco says, without thinking. "Their all blood traitors."

"You've been around Lucius for too long," Narcissa remarks, shaking her head. "You can't judge the whole based on the actions of a few."

"But-"

"What if it had been you?" she cuts in. "At the end of the war, what if you were prosecuted, even if you were being forced? Would you not want your circumstances to be considered?"

"I-"

"Don't lie, Draco," Narcissa chides. He pauses, gob smacked.

"I wasn't going to-"

"Finish that sentence and see where it gets you," she advises. Closing his mouth abruptly, Draco nods.

"Well then," Narcissa says, clapping her hands. She stands up, all previous seriousness gone from her visage. Lightly, she presses a kiss to her son's cheeks, a bright smile on her face. "I suppose it is time for me to set things straight with Lucius."

"Be careful," Draco cautions, after a moment. Concern floods his veins, growing stronger with every passing moment. The truth would destroy Lucius, and his anger would probably lead him to do very stupid things.

"He won't hurt me," Narcissa assures, grinning. There's a manic sparkle in her eyes; one Draco had never seen before. "Don't forget, I'm a Black, first and foremost."

"Ah," Draco says, nodding. His concern shifts, this time for Lucius. Surely the man wouldn't anger her…?

As if hearing his thoughts, his mother grins.

"Don't worry about it," she tells him. Without waiting for a reply, she leaves. Left alone, Draco is forced to confront the newfound information. Before he sleeps, he begs for it to be false, fake; however, the words are vivid memories in his head: " _Arthur Weasley and I had an affair."_

* * *

 _o-O-o_

* * *

Anxiousness churns in his stomach, taunting him, teasing him. Their conversation replays itself in his head, merciless, and he wants to run from it. Sometimes, he'll focus on happier memories–a trip with his parents, hanging out with his friends, getting his first O… However, his thoughts soon darken, the conversation coming to plague him, once more.

How do you connect with someone you've bullied? How are you forgiven for heinous acts done under false truths? Would Ron and the other Weasley's ever embrace him?

That's what it is, Draco decides. The problem, the real one, isn't that his mother had an affair. In fact, if Draco was being honest with himself, he'd admit to being _excited_ ; however, he can't be honest with himself, not really. Honesty would lead to him admitting he wants a family, and that's _bad_. He should be happy he's an only child, ecstatic that he's never had to share, but he _can't_. Everyday, he becomes more and more aware of what he could have had, of what he _can_ have.

There's a part of him that grows softer every day; longing beginning to consume it. He comes to _need_ this, and it's frightening him. So, in the comfort of his room, Draco allows himself to cry. He mourns the loss of his pride, mourns the loss of the family he could have had, mourns the loss of the stability that once founded his life.

Draco Malfoy… Draco Weasley… who even knows anymore?

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 _Give in,_ the voice whispers. Draco stares at the parchment in front of him, terror rising within the pit of his stomach. Words transcribe themselves in his head, merciless in their assault, but refuse to flow through his pen. He isn't sure what to do; the internal struggle condemning him to a fate worse than death.

He wants; Merlin, he wants it so bad, but he knows that it's going to hurt. He's done too much, _said_ too much. Surely, their history won't be forgotten, even after such a momentous thing has been revealed. Nevertheless, he takes the quill and presses the tip lightly to the paper. He writes everything down, hoping, praying that his emotions would do the talking. His opens himself up, allows himself to be exposed in the purest of ways, and he pleads for the Weasley's to see it for what it is: honest, sincere. Then, when he's done, he allows his owl to take it away, his heart pulsing rapidly in his chest.

Days later, another owl comes. When his eyes spot the parchment tied to its foot, bearing the aged Weasley seal, he feels trepidation build inside his chest. With slow, trembling hands, he opens the letter.

 _If what you say is true, join us. Family… is family._

Elation builds within him. Maybe, his dreams _will_ come true.

* * *

 **WC: 928.**


	255. Drabble 255: HermioneHarry

**Title:** _Fortress of Solitude_

 **Pairing:** Harry Potter x Hermione Granger

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Warning:** Psychological AU!

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

A confusing sensation, reminiscent of being weightless, courses through his veins. Eyes flutter open, their emerald depths peering through a veil of murky, dark water. Belatedly, he realizes he's not breathing; his lungs burning with the need for oxygen. Panic sets in, distant alarms sounding, and his body jerks; once, twice, thrice. Muscles contracting, body contorting, his lips open with a silent plea.

 _"Help…"_

It falls on deaf ears; his entire world darkens.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"Harry," Hermione calls, voice soft. "How long do you plan to stay in there?"

A moment passes, the shifting of the mattress the only sign that he heard her.

"Awhile," he finally answers, shrugging. He moves closer, allowing his gaze to rest on her concerned visage. Tenderly, he reaches out to clasp her hand. Flashing her a reassuring smile, he continues, "Don't worry about me."

"Harry, you don't understand." Her face darkens, shadows seeming to obscure all happiness that once lurked within it. "You're not where you think you are. Everything you think you know, all of it, is false."

"What are you talking about, Hermione?" Harry asks, confused. Perspiration drips from her brow, her eyes narrowed in concentration, her grip on his hand tightening.

"This place, Harry," she says, pausing. Static sounds; her form disappearing and reappearing within seconds. "This isn't real; Harry, you're not real."

"Hermione, you're not making sense." Confusion laces his tone, overshadowed by rising panic. Her words ignite something inside him; serve to fuel a flame stronger than anything he's ever experienced. The static grows louder, almost drowning out her words.

"Harry." Louder, louder, louder; are his ears bleeding? "Don't trust it… the thoughts, the memories… they'll lead you astray."

"Hermione-" Her eyes widen, and she moves to claw at her neck, as if fighting off an invisible attacker.

"R…u...n," she breathes. "As fast…as you can. As… far… as you…can. RUN!"

Blindly, Harry moves to sit up, but he can't. An invisible force holds him still, forces him to witness Hermione's eyes rolling to the back of her head, her entire body fizzing out of existence.

"Hermione!" His voice echoes through the room, tinged with hysteria. He yearns to reach out, to somehow bring her back, but something within him recoils at the mere idea–intuition, perhaps? Harry imagines a beast waiting for him and he can't help but cower on the bed, fearful to leave the safe confines of his blankets.

However, in the dark recesses of his mind, he wonders… is he truly safe?

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

As if taunting him, time passes by slowly. Thoughts of what happened plague him day in and day out, threatening to drive him mad. He begins to crave peace like a nomad craves contentment, the feeling growing stronger with every passing day. He no longer trusts his surroundings, Hermione's words ringing in his ears. His days become restless, his ability to sleep seemingly disappearing. Paranoia steps in, and he can no longer discern illusions from reality.

Briefly, he wonders… is this the beginnings of insanity?

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

"You're cruel," Hermione whispers, glaring. The Dark Lord chuckles, amused.

"I am," he agrees. "Very, very cruel. Such an astute observation, Ms. Granger; I'd expect nothing less from the smartest witch of the century."

Doused in sarcasm, served with relish; the perfect combination. Hermione frowns, annoyance clouding her judgement.

"You won't win," she tells him, trying to mask her uneasiness with false bravado. "Harry's stronger than you think."

"Strong indeed," he intones, nodding; however, the edges of his lips curl upwards–mimicking something reminiscent of a smile. "Although, you must remember," he moves closer to her, only stops when he's mere inches away, "the mind is the most fragile organ we have in our possession. If one were to be compromised… well, I think you'll see what happens, soon enough."

"Wait," Hermione says, after a moment. "Why is Harry's destruction so important to you? Surely, the prophecy was satisfied the moment you trapped him inside his mind."

"You never cease to surprise me, Ms. Granger," the Dark Lord purrs condescendingly. "Every time I think you've reached the limits of your own stupidity, you prove me wrong."

Hermione flushes pink, but forces herself not to comment. She can't let him win; not now, not ever.

"You assume that I have a reason," he continues, "but I don't, not really. Everything I do to young Mr. Potter is the result of mere whims… His pain means nothing to me besides temporary enjoyment."

"Why allow me inside?" Her eyes spark with a hidden challenge. "You know the nature of our relationship… why would you chance everything by letting me speak to him?"

"Because, Ms. Granger…" a spark much like her own enters his gaze, but it's wild–filled with absolute _hunger._ "A King does not wait for his enemies to attack him; he destroys them ruthlessly using _any_ means necessary. Do you know what the most damning sense of destruction is? It's _hope_. By hearing your voice, the portion of his soul that he locked away was awakened. Undoubtedly, your words are tearing him apart and, with just the right amount of prodding, he'll self-destruct. He _needs_ someone to save him, and he wants you to be the one to do it… but you won't. You _can't_. He won't be able to survive that."

Hermione stares, the pieces beginning to click together, and guilt churns in her stomach. Had she not gone in, Harry might have…

"Don't lament it," the Dark Lord advises, smirking. "After all, you've given me exactly what I wanted."

He leaves, then. Hermione struggles against her bindings, determined to get to Harry, to rectify the damage she's done, but she's too late. Within a horrid mindscape, darkness fully consumes the soul rotting inside.

* * *

o-O-o

* * *

 **Written for:**

 **Quidditch League (Round 13) – Submission by Firediva0, Keeper of the Appleby Arrows. Prompt: (King) Write about a character that needs defending. WC: 950.**


End file.
